


Stark, Naked

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [50]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amputee Bucky Barnes, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Camboy Tony Stark, Camera Sex, Dirty Talk, Fantasizing, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Lonely Bucky Barnes, Lube, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Sex Toys, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 00:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: A bottle of vodka, a dimly lit room, and his favorite camboi on the laptop…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for MCU Kink Bingo, Square O2, call to a sex line

Bucky Barnes dimmed the lights in his room. He was never quite sure why he did that, it wasn’t like it was a two-way chat, and anyway, he’d put a post-it note over his laptop’s camera months ago. But it felt somehow more intimate to have the lights down low whenever he logged in.

He had a bottle of vodka tucked by his hip, and a glass on the bedside table, but he knew by halfway through the evening, he’d just be drinking it from the bottle. He wasn’t sure why he continued to pretend, although the dirty glasses in the sink at least made it look like he had some sort of life, whenever Steve came over.

But mostly Bucky just drank, ate takeaway, and watched television. Not much, really, but his pension was only going to stretch so far.

And then, he’d discovered Chaturbate.

An accident, the first time -- he’d been watching something entirely unrelated, clicked to follow some links, and ended up on the streaming site. Twenty dollars bought him a lot of tokens, and he could tip as he wanted to.

He’d ended up watching a skinny twink stare listlessly at the camera while jerking off, and it was only reflex surprise that had gotten Bucky hard to start with.

He’d tipped about three dollars and clicked away.

Closed the laptop and promised himself he wouldn’t do that again.

That had lasted all of a day and a half before he was scrolling through the list of options.

Which was when he’d discovered Stark, Naked.

He’d blown almost fifty dollars that first show, and then checked out the guy’s schedule. He performed regularly, at least once a week.

Bucky logged in, checked his paypal balance, and settled back to watch the show.

Tony was dancing when the video feed kicked in, the music something hard rock. He was wearing painted-on jeans with a strategic rip right along the crease of his ass, and a tee shirt that was so tight Bucky could practically count his ribs.

Tony’s dancing wasn’t professional or choreographed. It almost looked like he’d just turned on a favorite tune and couldn’t help wiggling along to it, except for how he was careful to flash his backside at the camera every few seconds, his spine and hips undulating. Except for how his home studio was carefully lit, dark in the background with a light shining right down on that lithe body. Except for how those sultry bedroom eyes looked right into the camera and winked, as if he was welcoming Bucky, personally.

WinterSoldier: _Hey there, baby boy._

There was a small window to one side of the screen that held all the users currently watching, and showed whatever comments they made. Bucky didn’t try to compete with most of them, but he did like to say hi, at least. Certainly a simple greeting was better than some of the more obscene and suggestive things that other people said. XBones was in the process of asking how many tokens it would take for Tony to just _skip to the good stuff._

Tony’s eyes flitted to the side -- checking his own chat feed, obviously -- and then he looked back at the camera with a wicked smile. “You can’t rush quality, Boney” he chided. “The anticipation is half the fun. Winter, darling, I’m so happy you’re back! Maybe I’ll be able to warm you up a little this time, hmm?” He tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt, teasing a glimpse of his hipbone where it angled down into those jeans.

Whenever Tony said his name, even if it was just a code-phrase, Bucky felt _real_ , like he was having an actual conversation with a person, and not just some goddamn ghost in the story of his own life. _You are my actual facts favorite_ , Bucky typed.

“Aw, snowflake, you’re such a flatterer.” He glanced at his feed again, and his lips curved. “A lot of regulars on tonight,” he commented idly. “It’s enough to turn a boi’s head.” He winked and turned his head, and kept turning until that luscious backside was swaying in front of the camera.

Two times, Tony had said his name. Bucky decided to skip the glass entirely and just go straight for the bottle. At least it was real vodka. Last time he’d had an incident of not-being-able-to-go-out and Nat had brought him freaking marshmallow flavored Schtoli, which was something so vile that Bucky had actually poured it down the drain, because Nat, what even the hell? Bucky swallowed, feeling the burn, put the bottle aside and tapped his tip button. Each tip was about five cents, which really wasn’t that much, but with fifty or more viewers, and each hitting the key multiple times, Bucky imagined it added up. He clicked until he got to about forty or so, a couple bucks for saying hi.

Tony’s dance brought him back around to face the camera again, and this time when he teased up his shirt, it was obvious he’d unzipped his pants. They hung open, Tony’s not-unimpressive package bulging the bright red of his briefs in the open V. He winked for the camera and then dropped the shirt again, dragging his hand over his cock as he did, letting the shape of it be visible for a moment, even as his eyelids fluttered closed. Tony had the longest eyelashes Bucky had ever seen on a man. “I’m feeling a little naughty tonight,” he confessed. “Who’s got some suggestions for me?”

Xbones: _I give u $50 to take it all off NOW_

And that was the least raunchy of the variety of things thrown at Tony’s screen. Bucky sighed. He actually liked it better when Tony talked. His voice was amazing. Almost as good as his ass.

WinterSoldier: _Would love to feed you chocolate covered strawberries. You could eat something suggestively?_

VankoWhipsIt: _UR not taking him on a date, dude!_

WinterSoldier: _$30. Whip cream? You got any?_

Tony laughed. “I see you’re all feeling naughty with me. Let me just have a look at my supplies...” He twisted out of camera for a few seconds, then came back. “Look what I found!” One hand held up what looked like a glass dildo, thick and shot through with ribbons of color. The other had a can of Redi-Whip.

Tony sprayed a line of the whipped cream down the dildo and then smirked at the camera. His gaze firmly fixed, his tongue flicked out and licked a dollop of the cream off the tip.

Bucky tapped his tip button. There was a feature to tip more than a “token” at a time, but it was often difficult to find, especially when he didn’t want to look away from Tony’s face. That was probably the idea, at least from the sponsor’s point of view. At five cents a token, people probably forgot how much they’d tipped until they got the bill on their credit statement.

WinterSoldier: _You are so damn beautiful._

HammerTime: _Deep throat! Deep Throat!_

That got picked up by most of the rest of the viewers, and Bucky’s line scrolled off the top of the screen. Didn’t matter; he’d cheerfully watch Tony deep throat a dildo and wonder what those lips felt like, wrapped around him. Wondered what it would be like, to have those brown eyes looking up at him, fluttering those gorgeous lashes.

He unzipped awkwardly. Stretching his arm across the laptop to tap the tip button was probably not the kind of usage his PT was thinking of when she said “practice fine motor control” but hell, Bucky wasn’t going to confide in that woman anyway.

“So impatient,” Tony mock-sighed. “Well, the masses have spoken. Let it not be said that I don’t know how to take a hint.” He spritzed a little more whipped cream onto the tip of the dildo, then tipped his head back and slid the thing into his mouth. And in. And in further, until his throat was working, bulging with the thickness.

 _Jesus jumped-up Christ_ , Bucky thought. His dick twitched in his pants, and he shuffled around a little. Tucked the vodka against the back of the sofa so it wouldn’t spill, took his cock in his hand, and did not knock over the laptop. It was a balancing act, that was. He’d discovered more than once that multitasking was no longer on the list of things he could do, if he wanted everything to stay where he put them.

Watched. Fantasy Tony liked to cuddle up close, while Bucky watched TV, murmuring in that dusky, sexy voice, his hand in Bucky’s jeans. It had been way too long since Bucky’d felt another real person. But Tony was an excellent substitute.

Xbones went off on a paragraph long comment, badly spelled, with terrible grammar, about how he’d like to shove his dick down Tony’s throat until he choked on it.

WinterSoldier: _Rude. I’d treat you right, baby._

Tony fucked the dildo in and out of his throat a few times, and when he pulled it out, it was practically sparkly-clean, and there was a smear of white at the corner of Tony’s mouth, just begging for someone to lean in and lick it off him. His eyelashes were studded with tears from suppressing his gag reflex, but it only made his eyes seem wider and more luminous. “I know you would,” he said, and his voice was husky and rough. “I’d love to let you.”

There were more requests, mostly of the _get naked already_ variety. Bucky let them roll over and didn’t bother to read, his eyes were for Tony only.

He clicked his tip button, watched the show. Tony made a few bad jokes, mocked someone who commented that his dick was small which was why he didn’t want to show it off. (That person was also mocked by several of the regulars, who’d actually seen Tony’s package, so to speak, and were not disappointed.)

Talked in that throaty voice, jagged from his blowing the dildo, as he slowly stripped off his clothes.

MdmMasque: _Are you dating anyone, hot stuff? Girlfriend, boyfriend? Tell us all the juicy details._

“Mm, not seeing anyone at the moment,” Tony said. He turned his back to the camera and pushed down his jeans far enough to show his crack, just a little. Slid his hands down over his ass, fondling it, tucking his fingers down under the fabric to squeeze. “Except for all of you, of course.” He glanced back over his shoulder and winked as he pushed his pants the rest of the way down, turning _just_ enough to show that perfect curve.

HammerTime: _What do u look 4 in a bf? Money? Great hair? Big cock?_

Xbones: _Look who stocked up on hairgel, Hammertime._

WinterSoldier: _Wish…_

He stopped typing. Bucky didn’t know what he wished, really. Maybe that he could have a solo session, but why the hell would Tony want to do that. Bucky was a regular (if three or four weeks counted as _regular_ ) but he could never afford more than fifty dollars in a session. Tony probably made ten times that in his normal ninety minutes. He wished… he could just talk to Tony. Like a real person. Pretend, for a while. He tried to remind himself that Tony was just selling a product, like everyone else. And in this case, the product was a pretty boy who’d do anything Bucky wanted.

He clicked the rest of his tip, watching as the balance on his card went down.

“I’m probably supposed to say something like money or generosity so you’ll tip more,” Tony said, and laughed. “Or maybe talk about all the depraved sexy things I’d do with a boyfriend if I had one, yeah?” His arm moved, and he was stroking himself, angled perfectly so that none of his dick was visible, just the mouth-watering play of his shoulder muscles as his arm moved. “But honestly, I want what probably anyone wants, you know?” For just an instant, his eyes were wounded, vulnerable, _lonely_. And then he shook it off and shot another of those searing grins at the camera. “Toys, and lots of ‘em.”

That perfect, wounded look had rocked Bucky all the way down to his core. He’d have to comb back through the recording, see if he could get a screencap of that. So fucking gorgeous, he could have anyone, and for just a moment, a heart-stoppingly precious moment, Bucky could believe that Tony might want someone… just like him.

Bucky’s computer binged at him. He was out of tokens for the night.

WinterSoldier: _Sorry, babydoll, I’m out of tips for the night, but I’ll pour you out a shot of vodka._

He took another long swallow out of the bottle, not even surprised that half of it was gone. He wasn’t about to try to stand up, he’d be on the floor in a moment, and he hadn’t vacuumed… probably ever. Did he even own a vacuum? That seemed like something he might want to do. Eventually. If he was ever going to have someone over.

WinterSoldier: _ask me later if I remembered to adult this week._

He’d sort of forgotten that there was anyone else in the chat channel, just talking to Tony like Tony was a _friend_ , like they were just casually skyping. Like Bucky had more than two friends, really. Like Tony might _care_.

“Don’t have too much of that vodka, Winter Sugar,” Tony said, eyes sparkling. “You’re going to want to remember this one later.”

WinterSoldier: _I’d never forget you. This is just medicinal. Dulls the pain. A bit._

There were some good natured, and less than good natured razzing about that, about Bucky and his pain, and what he could do with it. Bucky tuned it out. He didn’t care what anyone else said. He just wanted Tony, wanted to watch and listen. He capped the bottle and put it aside, though, wondering what special thing Tony had in mind.

Tony teased the camera a little longer, then -- to several rude exclamations of _finally_ from the other watchers -- turned all the way around, settling into a chair that let him prop one foot up on his table or desk or whatever it was, giving a gorgeous view of his dick and balls and -- if he arched just right -- even his hole.

His cock was hard and flushed, leaking a little at the tip already. “I was visiting my favorite little supply shop yesterday,” he said, reaching off-camera, “and I happened across this new lube.” He held up the bottle so Bucky could see the label. _Some Like It Hot -- warming lube for the adventurous sexplorer!_

“I’m told it packs a heck of a punch,” Tony continued. “I tried a little bit on the inside of my lip, and it was a hell of a tingle. Want to find out what it’ll do to the rest of me?”

WinterSoldier: _What’s it taste like?_

Bucky would totally bend Tony over and eat that perfect ass so hard Tony would get whiplash. He flipped his jeans the rest of the way open and stroked himself, wondering if Tony was as responsive and eager when he wasn’t performing, if those noises would be a gift to whoever he was sharing himself with. _God_. Bucky arched up, just thinking about it, his dick practically quivering with interest.

“You know that candy, Atomic Fireballs?” Tony said. “Kind of like that. Why; you want to lick it off me when I’m done, honey?” He dribbled out a little of the lube onto his fingertips and rolled it in a circle around the shaft of his dick, not reaching up for the head just yet.

WinterSoldier: _I would._

Tony smiled, and it felt like he was looking right into Bucky’s eyes, smiling just for him. “Yeah, I bet--” He hissed a little, his eyes widening. “Oh, fuck, that’s... that’s potent stuff, absolutely. Wow.” He whimpered a little, pulling at himself. “Oh god.”

There was no one else in the world except for Bucky and Tony. Every shiver of Tony’s expression, every little sound were for Bucky and Bucky alone.

WinterSoldier: _Guess you want that tongue now, cool you off a little. Don’t hurt yourself._

Tony whined and bucked into his hand, dragging the lube up over the sensitive head. Almost immediately, he threw his head back, gasping, each breath a soft mewl of desperation, accompanied by curses and nonsense. His cock was rigid, purple and leaking. It looked ready to pound nails, but Tony just kept stroking it slow and easy, his hand shaking just a little.

Bucky rocked along with him, trying to keep his own hand at the same rhythm, as if he could pretend that it was Tony touching him, Tony making him feel good, and at the same time, as if he was touching Tony, tucked around behind him, stroking him off while pushed flush against that ass, nibbling at Tony’s neck, murmuring endearments and dirty words into his ear.

He rolled his thumb over the head of his cock, the same way Tony did, twisted, and then-- Christ, Jesus Christ. He wondered, briefly, before his orgasm ripped through him, if Tony’s lube was really that potent, or if the camboi really had that much endurance.

WinterSoldier: _OMG._

He shoved the laptop back onto his thighs, stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe himself off with, throwing it on the floor with the rest of his dirty laundry. (The clean laundry was all in the basket, where Bucky imagined some century, he might actually fold it. It was unlikely. Folding laundry was never a pleasant chore, and doing it one handed was that much worse.)

Tony held out a little longer, long enough that Bucky almost considered a second round. But when Tony finally came, he screamed, the cords standing out on his neck, and the spatter of come reached all the way up to his throat. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh... Oh, wow, that’s... that’s the stuff,” he panted. He slanted a look into the camera, his eyelids heavy and his sly smile turning sweet and sleepy. “Was it good for you, too?”

WinterSoldier: _You’re always good. I’d like to be good for you._

“You’d be phenomenal,” Tony promised, and it didn’t matter that he could have been responding to almost any of the comments, or all of them at once. “I hope I’ll see you again next time,” he purred. “In the meantime, if you decide to pick up some of this lube and try it, drop me a system message and let me know how it goes.”

He grabbed a cloth and wiped himself down, then glanced up at the chat window. “Don’t forget to adult, Winter!” He grinned cheekily.

WinterSoldier: _Vacuum, laundry, eat something that’s not take-away._

Bucky watched as the rest of the users made their farewells and dropped off the channel. Bucky always watched until the last possible moment. He wasn’t sure why, it just felt… rude… somehow, to come and go. He snickered to himself at the pun, feeling the booze and the hormone rush. Afterglow. Ridiculous, but still. It was usually the best he felt all week, so he’d take it.

Tony cheerfully responded to the farewells as he cleaned up and put away his stuff, not bothering to get dressed again. When he looked back up, Bucky was the only one left in the chatroom. Tony’s smile turned soft, then, and he looked out of the laptop at Bucky and Bucky alone. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he said, and it was like getting to see a whole different person under the saucy camboi mask. “Do write and let me know how it’s going.”

WinterSoldier: _I will. See you next week, dollface._

Bucky tapped the system messages logo under Tony’s screen. “Just a quick note. You don’t have to write back, but this is limited to 500 characters. Can email me at jbbarnes@gmail.com. Tomorrow, I pledge to eat one vegetable that’s not waffle fries. --WinterSoldier”

Tony glanced up at his screen and laughed. “A bold venture!” he exclaimed, his eyes full of warmth. “I’ll write tomorrow, I promise. Sleep well, Soldier.” He blew a kiss, and then reached out and turned the camera off.

Bucky touched his fingers to where the kiss “landed” on the screen, and like a high school girl with a crush, he pressed them to his own lips. Tomorrow, then. He’d have something new to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note -- Some small edits made to this chapter, because when we started writing it, we weren’t sure if Bucky had a prosthetic and was just getting used to it, or not. Since we went with disabled!Bucky, we went through and made some slight changes to keep the story consistent. Thanks!


	2. Buck, Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camboi!Tony finds himself getting involved with regular viewer, WinterSoldier. Emails lead to a private session, and yeah…. Tony’s in trouble.
> 
> For square I2 dirty talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bucky has some body dysmophic disorder, which doesn't come up directly, since this is Tony's POV, but he notices that Bucky's got some self image issues.

 

Tony did not _usually_ check his Chaturbate account in the mornings -- there were a few guys on there who held regular Morning Wood sessions, but Tony preferred the evenings, when people were tired and looking to unwind and wanted something more than just quick relief.

Not that he _really_ needed the money. He’d started doing the camboi thing just to annoy his father, and then kept it up after he’d managed to amass a small following because it was actually kind of fun.

Of course, he liked some of his regulars more than others. Which was why he was logging into the system first thing in the morning, sort of half-hoping--

_You have **1** new message!_

Most of them didn’t bother messaging. They got what they wanted from him during the show. Which was fine, that was fun, and some of them Tony didn’t _want_ to hear from, but...

**From: WinterSoldier**

Here’s an apple. It’s not a vegetable, but at least it’s a plant? But it’s just going to rot in my fridge if you don’t write back.

**Attachment: 1 (jpg)**

Tony managed to refrain from making an excited squeal. WinterSoldier was absolutely his favorite regular. He actually seemed to think of Tony as an actual person and not a slab of meat to get off to. He clicked on the attachment gleefully.

It was... a picture of an apple. Sitting on a depressingly empty refrigerator shelf. Tony could see a single can of cheap beer in the back, and the side of a bottle of mustard, and a Chinese takeout box. That was pretty much it.

Tony blinked at it for a minute, then leaned sideways to find the scrap of paper where he’d scrawled WinterSoldier’s email address.

**To: jbbarnes@gmail.com**

**Subject: Apples to oranges**

I have to admit, I was kind of expecting a dick pic, not an actual apple.

Maybe next time, you’ll send me a picture of your banana?

\--Tony!

Less than two minutes later, Tony was browsing through his normal dailies, and his email notifications popped up.

**To: starknaked@chaturbate.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

Does that actually ever work on a single human being in the history of history? I mean, caveman Grog was chiseling his dick on the wall of the cave and cavelady Ona said “fuck you, dude, caveman Bulo down the meadow has invented fire, i’m gonna go hang with him instead.”

That said, I’ve seen yours, only fair.

You’ve been warned.

**Attachment: 1 (jpg)**

The picture was…

…an actual banana. Well, not a banana exactly. It was one of those huge things that people won for their sweethearts at county fairs and amusement parks. Wearing one of those Jamaican flag colored hats and stuffed dreadlocks. The background this time appeared to be (someone, maybe WinterSoldier’s) bedroom. Tony could see a corner of mattress laying on the floor with the boxspring underneath. Milk crates for shelves, and a fat, comfortable looking chair containing one giant Jamaican banana. There was a cat perched on the arm of the chair, and the shadow of the photographer on the wall.

Tony burst out laughing. Well, he’d gotten what he’d asked for.

**To: jbbarnes@gmail.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

Wow, I don’t think even I could wrap my mouth around that.

Sure, caveman Bulo probably got laid more what with his hot shit fire and all, but who’s the one whose dick got to be the standard against which all the cave dicks were compared in the future? Cavelady Ona probably wished they had caveman Grog’s dick after a few rounds of boring “look at my fire, I’m so impressive”.

I mean, it’s all dick-measuring in the end, anyway, right? Might as well be upfront about it.

\--Tony!

**To: starknaked@chaturbate.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Taking a selfie one handed at this angle makes for a lot of foreshortening. I don't want to undersell.

Caveman Grog is sounding more and more like my ex. Impressive and boring, but with all the right toys and gadgets.

Also Moe thinks it's time for petting when I'm in the bathroom. So there's that.

That's my cat, not my dick, in case you were confused.

\--JB

**Attachment: 1 (jpg)**

That time he'd actually photographed himself. He'd done a good job of cropping and used some filters -- Tony was familiar with photography effects -- but it seemed more to keep himself anonymous more than anything else.

A mirror, still steamy with the morning shower, displayed WinterSoldier from about mid chest down. Sparse chest hair couldn't hide abs that Tony could grate cheese on, a deep Adonis Belt cut led to narrow hips.

Thick, upright, with neatly trimmed pubes, WinterSoldier's dick was pretty. Impressive.

The cat in the image, probably trying to figure out what stupid thing its owner was up to, kinda sold the image really.

Still Dick with Cats. A work of art.

It took Tony a couple of minutes to resist licking his computer screen, really. _Yum_.

**To: jbbarnes@gmail.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

Color me impressed. I knew you’d be hot, but WOW. Forget the cat, I know what I’d be petting... And licking. And sucking. And... Well, you get the picture.

Do me a favor - next time you take care of that gorgeous specimen, you give it an extra little squeeze for me. And a good pinch for your nipples, too. They look sensitive. Are they sensitive?

I know what I’ll be thinking about during my next livechat...

\--Tony!

**To: starknaked@chaturbate.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

I’ll just, em. Take care of that now.

And then I’m going to eat my apple. And today is my mostly-pretending-to-people day. Lunch with my sister. Grocery shopping so she can carry stuff back here for me. PT this afternoon.

I hope you’re on tonight, I’ll need to destress after that day.

\--JB

Tony wondered what WinterSoldier -- or JB, apparently -- needed with PT. From the picture Tony had seen, the man was 100% prime, grade-A all-American beefcake. But he needed help carrying groceries. And he’d mentioned before taking the selfie one-handed, which at the time, Tony had thought was a sly reference about where the other hand was, but now it seemed maybe... not? Maybe he’d messed up an arm somehow.

Tony pulled up the first email and looked at the picture again. Nope, it had been carefully cropped so both arms and shoulders were hidden.

Well, whatever was wrong with his arm (if it was his arm), JB was still super hot.

**To: jbbarnes@gmail.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

You know I don’t usually do shows two nights in a row -- gotta keep ‘em hungry, after all. But I might be convinced to do a private show, if you get all your people-ing done. What do you think? We could even set up two-way voice so I can hear how much you’re enjoying it...

\--Tony!

**To: starknaked@chaturbate.com**

**Subject: Re: Apples to oranges**

Glad I opened this. Almost just fell on my face. My PT lady, I swear, she’s from hell itself. If it’s not too late to set that up… that would be awesome. Easier to talk than type anyway.

\--JB

“Yes!” Tony stopped short of actually fist-pumping, but only just. He felt like he’d been vibrating out of his skin for the last hour or so, waiting to hear back from JB. Luckily, he’d already gotten the chat all set up. He clicked the Start button, checked his angle and lighting, and then sent the invitation message to the WinterSoldier account.

And if he held his breath a little, waiting, well, who could blame him?

The window opened a few minutes later:

**WinterSoldier has joined the channel**

The regular chat window opened, but then under it, a little thumbnail of a laptop webcam, along with the little voice icon. Tony was just squinting at what looked like someone’s couch, maybe? It was dark in the room and the camera wasn’t one of the high quality ones like Tony’s set up. A moment later a pink nose stuck itself in the way and Tony heard a chirrup sound.

“Nosy cat, get off,” a deep, rumbling voice said, heavily accented with a distinctly Brooklyn sound. The picture wiggled a lot, then settled, catching a desperately beautiful face with light eyes and a dark mop of hair, the stubble of someone who actually just hadn’t bothered shaving for three days. “Hey, Tony, you there?”

Tony beamed into his camera. “Hi there, sexy! So happy you decided to join me!” He snuck another look at that small, dark image. “So, uh, full disclosure and all, did you know your camera was on?”

“Uh--” the image joggled around some more “-- yeah? I mean, there’s some way t’ turn it off, but then my mic’s not working. I gotta spare set of headphones somewhere, but, as my friend’s dame would say, ‘I can’t be arsed t’ find it now.’” The image settled again, JB leaning back against the sofa, propped up on something. “If th’ murder hobo look don’t bother you, I won’t worry about it. I c’n stick a post-it note on th’ lens, if it makes you nervous or somethin’.”

“Oh, no, honey, you’re a _treat_ , let me tell you. I just didn’t want you to be giving me more than you intended.” He winked into the camera.

There was a certain steely intensity to JB’s stare that Tony seldom saw. “Can I trust you not to be recording?”

Tony tapped his temple. “Only up here, gorgeous, I promise.” Tony’s memory was damn near as good as a recording, anyway, except that he couldn’t share it with anyone else. “I wouldn’t pass it around, anyway. I want you all to myself.” Tony spun his chair around backwards and straddled it, folding his arms over the back and giving the camera his best sultry stare.

“Not, I’m sure, that there ain’t some corner of the internet set up specific-like for fetish porn that wouldn’t want pics of me, but I don’t expect the rest of everyone else will,” JB said. “Uh… so, yeah. Did my people-ing and adulting. Thought Becca was goan blow a gasket when I bought a bag of actual salad. I might even eat it.”

“I like salad,” Tony agreed. “All kinds of things you can do with a salad that’s quick and easy. But honeybiscuit, have you even _seen_ yourself? I’m pretty sure you could get a solid two thirds of any given internet population panting after you on those abs alone.”

JB shook his head, that dark hair obscuring his face for a moment, like a cloud. “Let’s just say th’ whole package’s had two blind dates walk out on me now. Full disclosure. Later. If that’s a’ight with you. Tonight, I just need to unwind a little. Haven’t never done a one-on-one before here. What’s… uh, the usual?”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that right now, snowflake. Let’s just get you good and relaxed first, hm?” He tucked the tip of his finger in his mouth and sucked on it. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want to see.”

“I like watchin’ you move,” JB said after a long pause. “Sometimes, in your show, you dance around a bit. It’s just… energetic. You’re so… alive. Vibrant.”

“Yeah?” Tony stood up and spun the chair out of the shot. “What kind of music do you like, JB?” He pulled up the soundtrack app. “Lots of good options here for a little striptease show, if that’s what you like.”

The sound that came out of JB’s throat, a shaky little moan that ended with a soft “fuuuuck,” was perfect. “Uh… _Knock on Wood_ ’s a good dance song. Guess you could pick anything off th’ Magic Mike soundtrack, too.”

“Hey, it’s your show,” Tony said. “I approve of your choices, though. Good job.” He loaded a few songs into a playlist and started it going, letting his hips catch the rhythm of the music, drawing him out into more and more movement. “Oh yeah, definitely a good choice.” He grinned at JB. “If I had you here, I could give you a lapdance. I bet you’d like that, yeah?”

“... better knock knock on wood…” JB was singing, either unaware that his mic was picking up the sound, or not really caring. His voice was soft, soulful. “Oh, yeah. Wouldn’t mind that, at all. Bet you’re a hell of a grind. You probably smell nice, too. You look like you do, some scented shower gel, or nice cologne. Not too heavy, something spicy. Pi by Givenchy seems like your thing, maybe?”

Tony pointed at the camera. “Not a bad choice, not at all.” He put a little extra bump-and-grind into the roll of his hips. “You look like you’d like one of those Old Spice shower gel scents with the weird names and those great, woodsy scents.”

“Lumberjack in a bottle,” JB agreed. “Turn ‘round? You have like. Serious, best ass. Your come hither look’s just…” He made a wet noise, like a chef’s kiss. “Mmmm perfect.”

Tony turned obligingly, shaking his ass for the camera. He tossed one of those come-hither looks over his shoulder, letting his eyelashes flutter. “Yeah, sugar? You about ready to come hither?” He did a little shimmy, working his way down and back up again. Slid his hand down over his crotch and let himself moan a little at the friction.

“You make me wanna dance with you,” JB told him. “Jus’ stand behind you and get up on that, like one of them Jersey shore boys. Grind together, got a hand on your belt, you could lean right back into me.”

Tony glanced at JB in the video feed. “I bet you could hold me up just right, too,” he agreed. “You could get up and dance with me now, you know. I bet that’d be something to see.”

“Pass on that, tonight.” There was a pinch in his voice and his smile was odd and tight, the way Tony sometimes smiled at the reporters who would ask him what he thought of Howard’s latest achievement ( _cribbed from Tony’s notes and with a shiny Stark sticker on it_ was not an answer that Howard would have tolerated). “Tole you, my PT bitch is from hell. She’s s’posed to be helpin’, but I think she’s done permanent damage t’ my back.”

“Aw, that sucks,” Tony said, pouting a little, and mentally cursing himself. He hadn’t meant to drag the mood down. “Let’s see what we can do to get you relaxed again, then, hmm?” He tugged his shirt off and tossed it onto the floor, let JB see the muscles in his back work as he rolled his spine. “Or at least tense for better reasons than that.”

“You are so damn beautiful. Perfect,” JB said. “You’ve… got these freckles on your shoulders. Bet you burn like hell in the sun. Your ass, I mean, that’s a gimme, that’s the low hanging fruit, you know. Everyone sees that. But just _look_ at you. Great arms, too. Ah, there goes that smile. I think that’s my favorite, not that your little seductive curl’s not cute, but the full smile, like you smile with your whole face. Gorgeous. I like looking at you ‘cause you look… like you like it? Does that make sense?”

Fuck, Tony was actually going to start _blushing_ if JB kept that up. Tony could listen to guys sing praises to his ass or his dick all day and barely blink, but-- It was like JB actually wanted to see him happy, not just sexy. Like it mattered. Christ, it didn’t even matter to Tony’s own family.

“I do like it,” he told JB. “I don’t have to do this. I have... other income. But this is _my_ break, you know? Getting to be a little sexy, teasing it out, watching someone else fall apart because of what _I’m_ doing? It’s the best feeling ever.”

“Little sexy? Dollface, you are _made_ of sex.” JB snorted and it turned into an unexpected laugh, like he was surprised into a laugh, and then surprised that he was laughing. His laugh was amazing, rich and throaty; a guy could fall for that, no question. And then he hissed and the laptop shook. He scrambled to catch it with a frustrated “damn cat.” His movements were quick, graceful, but also… lopsided.

It took Tony a moment to realize what he was seeing, but JB was missing most of his left arm; he wore a tank top and the rounded, scarred stump was clearly visible for a few seconds, before he got the laptop upright again. “Sorry. Moe got startled, an’ decided to use my thigh as a launch site.”

“Not to worry,” Tony said. “At least, not on my account. He didn’t scratch you, did he?” Tony wasn’t going to bring up JB’s missing limb. It wasn’t like it mattered, not really. Not in all the ways that counted. “You have a gorgeous laugh. I’m going to have to try for that again.”

“S’been a while,” JB admitted. “Nah, Moe didn’t get me too bad. Likes to remind me, the little shit, that he was last pick of the litter. Eeny meenie, you know? C’mere, siddown for a bit.” Tony could see the odd movement of JB’s one hand as he brushed the screen where Tony probably was, an impossible caress. “Tell me a little -- I know you can’t say much, safety an’ all that -- but tell me a bit about the _real_ you. What… what’s your favorite book? Not the one you tell people at parties an’ job interviews, but the real one. The one you read tucked up under your blanket with a flashlight.”

God, was this guy even _real?_ Tony dragged the chair back over and let himself fall into it, his chest on display. “You’re going to laugh at me,” he warned. “It’s an old Star Trek novel that I found in a used bookstore.”

JB grinned at him. “Not at all,” he said. “Mine’s _Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency_. There was this line… ‘The more Susan waited, the more the doorbell didn’t ring.’” His tongue flicked out and wet his bottom lip. “Feel like that’s my life, sometimes. Long wait for a bus that’s not coming. You know? You ever… feel like… not that life is wasted, or unwanted, but that it’s just kinda _pointless_? There’s no meaning to it, no matter how much we want and need there to be something… solid.”

Wow, that was... pretty heavy for what was supposed to be a jerk-off session. Tony cocked his head and studied JB’s face. “I think,” he said slowly, considering it, “that whatever meaning life has, is there because we put it there.”

JB’s smile was sweet, delighted. It practically made his eyes glow, and leaning as close to the computer as he was, Tony could see that they were a brilliant, silver-blue, lined thick with dark lashes. “That… that right _there_ ,” he said, and laughed again as Tony felt his forehead crinkle in confusion. “You… most people just sort of zone out when I’m talkin’, but you’re thinking, and you’re listening and I can see it on your face. It’s like… when you’re readin’ the commentary during your regular sessions. I like it. Stupid, right? I got the best camboi on the server for a _private session_ , an’ I just want to look at you.” He cupped the back of his neck, tugging at the hair there, cheeks flushed.

Oh, _fuck_ , but that little blush was cute. Tony was in such trouble now. “Hey, the whole point of a private session is that you get what _you_ want, right?” _Lonely_ , he thought. JB sounded lonely. Which wasn’t a surprise; a lot of Tony’s regulars were lonely. But JB seemed lonely for absolutely no reason. He was smart and articulate and sweet and caring and smoking hot. Maybe a little depressed, but hey, who wasn’t?

“I’m going to... go out on a limb,” Tony added, his eyes flicking between the image of JB and the camera lens, “and say that if you’re... if you’re ever in New York, you should let me know. We could meet up for coffee or something.” _New York_ was safe to give away, it was a big fucking city.

“I’ll… yeah, I’ll think about that,” JB said, and there was a note of hesitancy in his tone, hard to tell if that was a dismissal or a travel from the fly-over states is expensive as hell, that’s why they call ‘em fly _over_ states, because no one wanted to actually _be there_. He chewed at his bottom lip, leaving it swollen and red. “Hey, uh… do like we got enough time t’...” He made a fist and shook it at the camera, perhaps unconsciously making a blowjob face, his tongue poking at his cheek obscenely. “I don’t know how much time you got for this apparent impromptu therapy session slash sex line call.”

Tony laughed, soft and fond. “For you, hot stuff, I’ve got all the time in the world. You want to get it on? You going to let me watch you? That pic you sent me earlier practically melted me. I’ve been dying to see you in action.” He slouched a little in the chair, just enough to slide the zipper down on his jeans.

JB made a scoffing sound. “I ain’t, you know, a professional. Not gonna be much of a show, but yeah, lemme… I gotta move my camera.” He said that, but it seemed more to Tony that he was rearranging _himself_. He heard JB’s zipper, then found himself staring at the underside of a coffee table, looking at a cat who was disapproving of him, little paws folded properly in front of himself, barely deigning to look at the camera.

When JB picked the computer up again, he’d shoved his jeans open, tugged his tank top up to reveal that stomach and ribs, but he’d also tugged a blanket down, so his stump disappeared under the blanket. If Tony hadn’t been paying attention, he might not have noticed. Which meant that JB _noticed_. That he must be hyper aware of how people’s eyes would flit to an empty sleeve and move away, as if amputation was _contagious_.

“Lean back,” JB told him, “lemme see that gorgeous bod.”

Tony complied, stretching his arms out a little as if to say _it’s the whole package_ before rocking his hips to push his pants down a little. “Tell me how you want it, beautiful,” he purred. “Slow and easy? Hard and fast? Want to make me beg for it?”

“Jesus,” JB murmured, “you are… _shameless_.” Breathless and approving, not the usual tone that Tony heard that particular word. His hand disappeared into the vee of his jeans, cupping himself and giving a little squeeze. His teeth dented that plush lower lip. “Bet you could get me beggin’ for it. Would love t’ touch you.” He arched up, pushing his jeans down, giving Tony a few tantalizing glimpses of bare, smooth skin. Those hips, really… Shakira didn’t have anything on JB.

“I’d love that too,” Tony said, and Christ, he thought he might actually _mean_ it. JB’s hand was big and strong-looking. “I bet you’d touch me just right, everywhere I needed it.” He slid his hand into his underwear, letting JB see the way they tented, letting the movement of his hand show, slow and luxurious. “Right where I want it, right there... Oh, yeah. You with me, honey? You feeling it?”

“So with you, Tony.” JB groaned. He pulled his hand out of his pants and tugged at the thigh, first one and then the other, sliding them down ‘til they were out of sight, leaving him in a pair of scandalously tight briefs, dark red and vivid against his skin. “Wanna lick you, right--” his finger moved to the screen. “--there. That little soft spot, right over your hip.”

Tony slid his free hand down his side, caressing at the skin over his hip. “Right here?” he teased. “It’s like you _know_ me. That spot drives me wild.” He slid his hand over it again, letting JB see his shiver. “I’m not that subtle,” he confessed. “I want to leave bite marks all over your collarbones, on your hips...” He hummed and pushed his underwear out of the way. “What do you think, honey? Would you let me mark you up?”

“Oh, _god_.” JB straight up whined at that. “I would let you damn near anythin’ you wanted, just to get your damn mouth on me.” His hand was inside those briefs, pumping himself with a steady, almost relentless rhythm.

“Mm, I _absolutely_ want to get my mouth on you, every inch of you. Save that pretty dick of yours for dessert, and then swallow it right down.” Tony wasn’t stroking quite as fast as JB, but he added that twist at the end that made his blood feel like static in his veins, made his toes curl. “I bet you taste _amazing_. God, if I could crawl right through this screen and lay you out...”

JB yanked his shirt the rest of the way up, until that tank was rucked up under his armpit. He twisted one brown nipple between his fingers, rolling it until it was a hard peak. “Yeah, you c’n crawl over me any time you fuckin’ want to, baby boy. So goddamn gorgeous.” His hips thrust up, pumping into the air a few times. He shoved his briefs aside, showing off that proud cock, whining with impatient need.

“Yeah, you want it, don’t you?” Tony coaxed, his own hips stuttering. “I’d suck you down, blow you until you’re practically _crying_ for it, and then sit on it, ride you right down.” Wouldn’t he _love_ to get that cock in him? Thick and hard, it looked like a dream.

“Yeah, you know it, baby,” JB said. “Want… want you, so bad. Ride that ass of yours ‘til you were screaming. Bet you’re sweet when you come, th’ look on your face, wanna--” JB made a soft sound, a little whimper. “God, Tony… I--”

He arched up, bumped the computer where it was resting, because the image wobbled for a moment before steadying. JB had his head back, showing off his throat, that long torso, which was suddenly striped with his come, splattering along his belly.

“Oh, _fuck_ , baby, that’s it, that’s perfect, that’s it, that’s--” Tony bit his lip as he came and didn’t bother trying to make it a good show, just let his body shake and his mouth fall open and his eyes squeeze shut. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped. “God, honey.”

“Mmmm, Tony,” JB said, sighing with satisfaction. He slitted his gaze at the camera, like he was looking directly into Tony’s eyes, those lashes sinfully long. “You’re… amazing.”

“So are you,” Tony said, and he meant it. “You get a good night’s sleep tonight for me, okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, okay,” JB said. He blew Tony a kiss. “See you… on your regularly scheduled performances, doll.”

There was a long pause, and then JB reached over and the connection went dead.

Tony stared at the empty screen for a long, long time. “Oh, I am _so_ fucked,” he whispered.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You are such an _asshole_ , Barnes,” Bucky told himself.

He had not _meant_ to ghost Tony. There had been an email for him, the morning after their private session. Bucky’d grinned at it, and promised himself he could read it after he took a shower, ate breakfast, and filled out two job applications. It was advice his sister had given him, to reward himself for even the smallest accomplishments, to mark them, so that he could start moving on.

He’d managed the first job ap -- basically sending his resume to a company -- and had gotten in the shower. Thought about Tony, how lovely Tony had looked, and how he’d looked at Bucky, like he was a real person and not a shadow. Not a trauma diagnosis and a missing arm. And then he’d lifted both arms to try to wash his hair, forgetting, like he always _forgot_ , that his whole life was permanently changed.

He’d managed to get out of the shower, dry swallowed a Xanax, had hesitated and then had taken another.

Bad plan. He’d fallen into bed and not moved for almost eighteen hours. He’d missed Tony’s normal Thursday night session.

There had been two emails waiting for him.

Bucky’d closed his laptop. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

He hadn’t. It had taken him most of the weekend to crawl out of his funk again.

Three emails, all unread, and it was almost time for Monday’s show.

“Just log in,” he told himself. “Log in, watch the show. Tip. You don’t have to talk to him.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Tony, but while he was busy sulking, he’d had all sorts of negative thoughts, and he couldn’t fathom why _Tony_ would want to talk to _him_. Tony was a sex worker, he didn’t really care about Bucky, it wasn’t like that.

“He said to let him know, he said. If I was in New York, we should do coffee,” Bucky reminded himself. It wasn’t like Tony could possibly have _known_ that Bucky was in Brooklyn, but Tony was a sex worker. He probably knew better than to offer, if he didn’t mean it.

Bucky lost another ten minutes or so, disappearing into the rabbit hole of his thoughts. It was a physical ache, checking the clock and realizing that he’d done it again, just drifted out and suddenly it was later than he remembered. That vague sense of panic enfolded him. He took a deep breath, let it out.

Logged in.

He was late -- jesus, almost halfway through Tony’s show, how the fuck had he lost another ten minutes? -- when he clicked Join for _Stark, Naked_.

_WinterSoldier has joined the channel._

Tony was already undressed, sitting in front of the camera, one leg propped up to show off his sweet little hole, and was teasing at it with the end of a dildo. He glanced to the side, checking the chat window, and his whole expression lit up. “Soldier! You’re back!”

Bucky dropped a few dozen tokens into Tony’s tip jar, but he didn’t type anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. _Hi, sorry I was ignoring you?_

“Fuck.” Bucky dug at the scar tissue around his shoulder. It always itched when he was upset, like the skin there had to remind him of everything. He couldn’t forget, he wasn’t allowed to pretend to be _normal_.

He snuggled into the couch, dragging his blanket down over himself, just watching.

Tony went on with the show, though he seemed a little distracted tonight, not his usual chatty self. He responded to the urgings (and occasional demands) from the other viewers, but something about his smile seemed slightly... off. His backtalk was missing some of its snap. Maybe it was just that the dildo was distracting him -- it had a fairly impressive girth.

Soon enough, he had it in, right up to the base. His skin was flushed, the hair at his temples damp with sweat. “Now, I know you all want to see me ram this big boy in a few times, but you’ve got to give me a few seconds, here. It’s a lot. Don’t even say what I already know you’re typing, Boner, everyone needs time to adjust.” He quirked a little smile and winked.

Jesus. Bucky couldn’t look away. He could barely breathe. His dick was perking up in his soft sweats. He dropped more tokens in Tony’s tip jar, wondering what it would be like to squeeze into that heat, feel Tony clench around him, watch that beautiful face.

WinterSoldier:    …

He hit the enter key before he could think better of it, even though the line was mostly blank. He just wanted Tony to know he was there. Even if he didn’t know what to say. Was there some sort of etiquette guide. _What to do when you think you might be hot for a sex worker?_ Emily Post should get right on that.

Tony grinned, brightening a little. “All right, let’s give this a try. I don’t think I’ve ever had one this big before, you know? I feel _so full_.” He winked at the camera. “I know you’d fill me up better, though.” He rocked the thing out about halfway and pushed it back in, steady and slow. His head dropped back into a moan. “Oh, yeah, that’s intense.”

Bucky chewed his lip, wondering. Wishing. Christ, he wanted to be the reason that Tony looked wrecked as hell, sweaty and moaning. Wanted to be the reason that Tony’s thighs were quivering. Wasn’t gonna happen, but he could wish, couldn’t he?

He dumped more tokens, maxed out his allowance for the show. Took a few screen captures for later perusal. Ignored Xbones, who was being an X-rated asshat again. As bad as he was bragging, Bucky wondered if the guy could find his own dick with a map and both hands.

_At least Xbones probably had both hands,_ that nasty little voice said.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes, enough!”

WinterSoldier: _You got this, baby boy_

Tony let out a soft whining groan at that. “Oh, fuck, that’s good, that’s... I’m doing it just for you, honey, it’s all for you...” His breath stuttered and he came, without even stroking that pretty dick of his, just a long stream of come painting his belly and chest.

Bucky clenched up, his whole body tightening, and fuck, he hadn’t even touched his dick, he’d been too busy watching Tony to even think about it, but fuck, it ached, he wanted, Christ, he wanted to pretend that Tony was talking to him in specific, him, Tony wanted _him_.

WinterSoldier: _That was gorgeous. Want someone to clean that up for you? :P_

Tony laughed, a little breathless, but the odd mood he’d been in seemed to have been shaken off. “You offering, hot stuff?” He swiped a finger through the mess on his belly, looked directly into the camera -- directly at _Bucky_ \-- and licked it off.

WinterSoldier: _It would be a privilege._

He sighed. It would be a fucking miracle at this point. He reached into his sweats, stroked himself off ruthlessly, like it was a damn race. Tried to remember every movement of Tony’s body, the way his face looked, the sweet smile, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead. Wanting to finish before Tony logged off for the night. He’d missed so much of the show, he--

_Fuck!_

He arched up, creaming his sweats.

Grimacing, he wiped his hand off on the fabric before typing again.

WinterSoldier: … _so sweet, baby_

Onscreen, Tony finished licking off his hand, then reached out of the shot, stretching, showing off his lean muscles and gorgeous abs. “Damn it, can’t reach-- Hang on a sec, guys.” He rolled to his feet and took a step to the side, leaving the video bare. A few seconds later, he was back, a towel in hand. “Sorry, thought I’d left that where I could reach it.”

Private message from starknaked:  _Stick around after the show?_

Fuck. Double… fuck. Bucky snarled at himself, at the way his heart rate doubled just thinking about it.

Bucky wiped his hand again, got his phone out. “Siri, text Steve: tell me to stop being a dumbass. Don’t ask. Just say it.”

A moment later his phone beeped. _Don’t be a dumbass. I will ask. Later._

He tossed the phone aside. Steve would ask, and Bucky would have to have something to tell him. Not the whole, unadulterated x-rated truth, mind, but _something_.

Private message from WinterSoldier: _yeah_

Tony finished cleaning up, flirting a little with a few of the regulars who were apparently leaving last-minute tips, but eventually, everyone else cleared out of the chat.

Tony wandered off-frame again, and came back wearing a slightly ridiculous bathrobe that looked like it had been made out of a particularly baroque curtain or something. “Hey there, thanks for sticking around.”

WinterSoldier: _Full disclosure before you say anything._

WinterSoldier: _I haven’t read your emails._

Tony made a face. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I just... I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I got too personal and made it weird.”

Bucky blinked. That was about the last thing he’d expected Tony to say.

WinterSoldier: _Ain’t on you, baby boy. This is a me problem._

He paused, rubbing his chin while he tried to decide what to say, how to explain without explaining. Some way to make Tony understand.

WinterSoldier: _You’re perfect._

Tony snorted. “No one’s perfect, hot stuff. If you knew me, you’d take it back. I talk too much, I interrupt people, I have no social graces at all. You know why I do this? Mostly just to piss off my dad. So I’m heavily spite-motivated a lot of the time. And, y’know, I have this tendency of getting caught up in my fantasies and thinking they’re real.”

WinterSoldier: _You_ …

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, come drying in his sweatpants was sticky, uncomfortable, and he smelled like raw oysters. Ug.

WinterSoldier: _Gimme a min here. Need to clean up. Full disclosure. You scare the hell out of me._

Bucky drew in a deep breath and put the laptop aside. He rocked himself to his feet. If his confession didn’t scare Tony off, if he was still there after Bucky changed clothes and ran a wet washcloth over himself, he’d go ahead and take the risk. He glanced at his phone.

_Don’t be a dumbass._

***

Tony blinked at the chat window. _You scare the hell out of me._

He didn’t think he’d ever scared anyone before. Tony made people frustrated. Or angry. Or confused. Or hot and horny. Or amused, that happened sometimes. He was pretty sure he’d intimidated a few people with his intellect. But that wasn’t really... _scared_.

Was _scared_ a good thing?

Maybe.

Tony had sent an email after their private chat, ebullient and happy, like they’d just had a really great first date. He’d told WinterSoldier -- JB -- a few more things about himself. Nothing identifying, but things like... his favorite food. He’d shared a recipe for a quick and easy meal replacement smoothie, because he’d gotten the impression JB had some kind of food issues. The fact that he was an only child, since JB had mentioned a sister. Talked about a few TV shows and movies he liked. Asked JB similar questions. First date get-to-know-you shit.

JB hadn’t answered, and Tony had sent another email, sort of a “Hey are you okay?” kind of thing, because JB had seemed kind of weirdly down for some of their chat, and Tony was a little worried that he’d worn the poor man out. Tony could be a lot to deal with, he knew that.

Still no answer, and WinterSoldier had stopped coming to Tony’s cam sessions. After three days, Tony had been forced to come to the conclusion that he’d been wrong about JB actually wanting a more personal connection, and that Tony had -- once again -- stepped way over the boundary of appropriateness and solidly into the territory of creepy. (Which was sort of hilarious, because _he_ was the sex worker, here, and usually the creepiness came from the other side of that transaction. Xbones, for example, was pretty damned creepy sometimes, and Tony was only grateful that the guy had no idea where to find him.)

But if there was a way to be difficult, Tony would find it, of course. So he’d sent a third email, apologizing for overstepping. JB hadn’t answered that one, either, but by then, Tony hadn’t expected one. He’d tried to shake off his sense of disappointment, and the lingering crush, and gone on about his business. If JB didn’t want to talk to Tony anymore, then Tony would just have to live with that. He wasn’t owed anything.

Still, when he’d seen WinterSoldier join the chat halfway into the session, it had felt like the sun rising after a week of rain. He’d tried to play it cool, keep it professional. A little flirty, because that was his whole thing, but he’d mostly avoided talking just to JB. Kept it a little vague, so his teasing comments could conceivably have been directed at anyone on the chat.

And JB had responded! Not as talkative as usual, but it was his usual sweet patter. Of course he didn’t owe Tony an explanation, but Tony couldn’t resist the urge to ask him to stick around, just so Tony could apologize again.

JB would’ve said no if he hadn’t wanted to talk to Tony, right? Made up some excuse, even if he was trying not to hurt Tony’s feelings?

And now JB was saying that it wasn’t Tony’s fault at all. That Tony was _perfect_ (what a joke), that he _scared_ JB? What the hell was so scary about him? Especially this version of him, the mostly anonymous camboi and not the wealthy genius prodigy.

Tony chewed on his lip nervously and stared at the chat window until his eyes burned from the need to blink. _Come back. Please_.

WinterSoldier: _Can u opn chat? Not 2b obnox. But my fingrs ache today._

Oh. Yeah, typing one-handed had to get old fast, and JB wasn’t even getting to jack off with his other hand. “Yeah, of course, give me a second...” Tony wheeled his chair over to the computer and set it up, shooting the invitation to the WinterSoldier account and ignoring the way his heart was thumping.

“So, uh,” JB said, as soon as the chat window opened, “so, uh, I got your email. An’ uh. I was usin’ it to incentivize myself. Do these… three things an’ you can read it, right?” He stopped there and actually looked at his camera. The three-day beard was gone, like he’d shaved that morning, just a little shadow coming in, and his shoulder length hair was pulled up in a little sloppy topknot. “So, like, I fail at bein’ a human being.”

Tony smiled, a little sadly. “There is nothing more human than failure,” he said. He’d forgotten who’d said it originally, but Rhodey had said it to him, once, when he’d been struggling with a project, and it had stuck with him. “So don’t try to tell me you’re not a human. You’re struggling, I guess, from what it sounds like, but that’s okay. I’m just... I’m glad I didn’t make you feel worse.”

“Nah, wasn’t you,” JB said. “I, uh, just took a double dose of my meds, didn’t eat, an’ kinda slept for most of two days. By that time, there were _two_ emails, an’ I, well, everythin’ sort of cycled from there. Like, I don’t deserve t’ talk to you, because I can’t even handle my own damn life for two fuckin’ days. I… jus’ wanted you to know that it’s not you.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Tony said, trying for humor. “I can’t claim to know what you deserve, but I’ve got to say that cutting yourself off from other people is probably a recipe for making things worse, not better. Listen, honey, you can tell me if it’s none of my fucking business, but have you eaten today?”

“Grabbed a sausage biscuit an’ some of them french toast fries,” JB said. “Lemme tell you, th’ fake syrup they side with that shit is _nasty_. Like, it’s not even maple flavored, it’s like maple vape cartridge flavored. Learn from my mistakes, do not eat.”

Tony laughed. “I will keep that in mind. Okay, that’s good, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself today.” He eyed JB’s image in the video window. “Shaved, too. It looks good on you. I like it.”

“So, uh, yeah, that’s, uh. That’s what happened. An’, well, sometimes I let things. You know. Go. And… I thought about that. About jus’... letting you go. Yet another thing I fuckin’ dropped.” JB stopped, licked at his bottom lip, looked off into the distance.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Tony said earnestly, leaning in toward the screen like he could reach through it and touch JB’s face. “I’d have missed you. I _did_ miss you.”

“An’... well, then there’s the other thing,” JB said, obviously steeling himself for something. “You… uh, said. Coffee, maybe. If I was ever in the city. Is that… something you do? I mean, do you-- do that? Meet clients? I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, was that a _personal_ offer, or a _professional_ one?”

Tony’s eyes were trying to fall out of their sockets. “Oh my god, _personal_ ,” he said, almost too fast. “I don’t-- I mean, I just... You seemed to actually _see_ me. As a person, and not, you know, something to jerk off to. Which. I get that, I wouldn’t have signed on for this whole camboi thing if I wasn’t okay with being objectified like that, but, you know, it’s still nice to... to be _seen_. And you seem really sweet and interesting and smart and not at all like a serial killer, so I thought, maybe...” He forced himself to stop rambling and shrugged. “Yeah. If it’s a problem, if you don’t want to, or can’t, or whatever, I understand.”

“I jus’ wanted to check my expectations,” JB said. “I… you know, I mean, it’s one thing to go on a… I dunno, a pre-date slash coffee meet up slash ‘oh, I was in your neck of the woods’ blah blah, an’ another thing altogether for me t’ show up an’ you want fifty dollars for a blowjob. Or whatever the going rate is, I have no idea.”

“I have no idea either,” Tony said. He made an effort to blink because he would definitely be less appealing to pretty much everyone if his eyes actually fell out and landed on the carpet. “I only ever give blowjobs for the fun of it.” He hesitated. “Are you... Is this a rhetorical discussion, or is this... coffee thing something that actually might happen?”

“Assumin’ you meant the city an’ not upstate, because you’re pretty an’ all that, an’... look, I ain’t thumbin’ a ride up to damn Albany to meet you for a cup of coffee,” JB said, then gave Tony a quick grin. “I… uh. I live in Brooklyn.”

A laugh burst out of Tony’s mouth entirely without his intention. “I’m in Manhattan,” he said. “We could definitely, totally, meet up somewhere. I would very much _like_ to meet up somewhere. If you’d like to. Too.” _Stop. Babbling_ , he commanded his mouth. It wasn’t likely to listen for very long.

JB chewed his lip for a moment, hesitated, then-- “Uh, yeah, I would. I would like to. I dunno what your schedule’s like, but barring another night in th’ arms of Prince Xanax, I don’t got nothin’ tomorrow. Day after’s PT again.”

Tony clicked up his calendar, though he already knew he’d move whatever he had to, to make this happen. “I can do tomorrow,” he said. “I know a pretty decent place about a block from the south end of Central Park. Or if you have transportation issues, I can come to Brooklyn.”

“Uh, yeah, subway…” JB was going to need to invest in chapstick, Tony thought. “Look, I’ll tell ya straight, we got two points of failure in a gettin’ me on the train plan. One less thing for me to be nervous about if you come here? You know where Coffee Lab is?”

“Google is a marvelous invention,” Tony said, already typing it in. The map loaded, and Tony checked the streets, then zoomed it out a little, looking for parking. “That’s... that’s pretty doable,” he said. “Time? I have to tell you, I’m not usually up in the morning unless I’m seeing it from the other end.”

“After lunch? Two is good, it’s less crowded. Well, y’know, as less crowded as it gets.”

“Two it is,” Tony agreed. He grinned at JB. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, uh… me too.” JB gave him a quick, two finger salute, then a string of numbers showed up in Tony’s chat window. “If… you need to cancel, that’s my cell, just send me a text.”

Tony picked up his phone and put the number in his phone, then sent, _Text me any time, gorgeous!_ “There, now you have mine, too.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow, then. ‘nite.” JB reached over and the voice chat disconnected.

New Text from JB. _Its a date_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the smut-averse: Smut happens, starting not long after they get to Bucky's apartment.

“Hey, Buck, wh--”

“Shut up, Steve,” Bucky snapped, and then talked as fast as possible, hoping that he’d get to the end of the request before Steve interrupted him. “I have a date in exactly forty minutes, I have looked at every piece of clothing I own, and I’d like your girlfriend to tell me what to wear that doesn’t look like I’m a psycho-needy, clingy idiot with enough baggage to need my own damn airplane. So, can I talk to Nat?”

“But you _are_ a psycho-needy, clingy idiot with enough baggage to need your own airplane,” Nat said, cool as a cucumber.

“You have a date?”

What, had Steve put him on speaker phone? Guess so, no big deal. Bucky thumbed the speaker button on his own phone and threw it on the dresser. “But I don’t want to look like one, and I’ve got like… nothing to wear.” He didn’t. Pretty much everything he owned were loose jeans that were easy to snap one-handed, sweatpants, and a variety of tank tops, tees, and hoodies. He looked exactly like what he was, a jobless wonder living in his mom’s old rent-controlled apartment.

“Do you still have that button down vest? Wear that, open, with your maroon tee shirt.”

“That tee shirt is too small,” Bucky complained.

“Yes, I know. Trust me.”

He dug through the pile, letting the rest of his clean clothes fall on the floor. Whatever, he could do laundry later. “Got it.”

“Who do you have a date with?”

“A guy, Steve, jeez. No one you know.” He did not want to get into that, not right now. He had… crap. Twenty-three minutes to get dressed and get down to the coffee shop. Fuck. “Gotta go, thanks Nat.”

He disconnected before Steve could finish protesting. Hit the messenger app button on his phone. “Text Tony: Might be late. See you soon.” He checked the message to make sure the voice text didn’t say something stupid like seal your moon, which it did. Frequently. Hit send, since it seemed to know what he wanted to say today, and struggled into the ridiculously tight tee.

“Fuck,” he said again, raked his fingers through his hair. Grabbed his fisherman’s cap and stuck it on his head. Checked his look in the mirror. Accidental, one-armed hipster Bucky Barnes strikes again. Great. It would have to do.

“Moe, don’t let anyone in while I’m gone,” he told his cat. Moe did not take his guard pet duties very seriously and didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

Bucky tucked his phone into his front pocket and was out the door.

Bucky recognized Tony from half a block away, just from the way he was moving as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. He was standing outside the coffee shop, looking up and down the street. Waiting.

He was wearing a pair of jeans that appeared to have been painted on and a band tee, its sleeves tight and pushed up enough to show off Tony’s arms. He spotted Bucky when Bucky was still two storefronts away. He broke into a wide smile that made Bucky’s stomach clench -- nerves? Desire? Sheer terror? -- and waved.

The part of him that was always going to be left-handed, no matter how much his body insisted that he didn’t have a left hand anymore, made an abortive twitch before he got his right hand up. Watched to see if Tony’s face did that… _thing_. Bucky didn’t know what to call the _thing_ , but it happened, all the damn time. Where people’s faces fell, or their eyebrows went up, or their smile went wide and fake. The _thing_ , where Bucky stopped being a person and started being an empty sleeve.

“Tony,” he said, as soon as his legs -- which had not checked in with his brain and were moving eagerly, to get him as close to Tony as possible -- brought him into a not-yelling distance.

Tony glanced at Bucky’s empty sleeve, and Bucky braced -- but then he reached out to take Bucky’s extended hand, and his eyes were back on Bucky’s, and he still looked just as happy. “JB, hi,” he said, and it was warm and welcoming, almost a purr. “I’m glad you made it. Thanks for the text.”

Bucky snorted, gave Tony’s fingers an extra squeeze before letting go. “Uh. It’s uh… Bucky. My name, I mean. I guess I never said.” He gestured toward the door and decided not to make a deal out of it when a woman took an extra quickstep to get to the door before he did and hold it open for him. Fuck, it’s not like he couldn’t open the damn door, but he gave her a quick upturn of his lips that had nothing to do with a smile and murmured a thank you.

“Bucky, really?” Tony followed him through the door. “That sounds like it ought to have been your username on the site. Was it already taken?” He flashed Bucky an impish grin, then looked up at the coffee board.

“I was feeling emo when I picked my username,” Bucky told him. “Pissed off with th’ army, an’ my physical therapist, an’ wanting to sound… I dunno, badass, I guess.” They crept through the line, and Bucky gave his order to the barista. Too much sugar, lots of milk, and enough caffeine to wake up a sloth. “I got it,” he said, working his phone out and tapping his pay-app. “Since you came all this way.”

“Okay, but I’ll get the next one,” Tony said. He leaned up against the counter to place his own order, his hip brushing Bucky’s. He ordered it black, but it was one of the specialty roasts. At least he hadn’t sneered at Bucky’s dessert beverage.

Next one? Bucky thought about saying something about that, but decided he’d just… let it play out. They did the awkward hover while waiting for their drinks, and then Bucky spotted a table open up and snagged it.

“I-- oh, thanks,” he said, as Tony grabbed both drinks and brought them to the table. “I guess I missed my opportunity t’ say I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on--” and then he laughed as Tony nearly spit his coffee out.  

“Bad,” Tony chided, wagging his finger at Bucky. “Very bad.” He kept his eyes on Bucky as he took another sip of the coffee, letting his gaze wander down Bucky’s chest and then slowly back up. “Positively naughty.”

Bucky took a long sip of his vaguely coffee-flavored caramel milk. “You knew that already. Ask me somethin’ you don’t know yet.” It was as much of an opening as he could give. He didn’t like to talk about what happened, but he’d at least learned if he brought it up first, he had more control over the conversation. And maybe Tony wouldn’t ask. But Bucky would tell him, if he did. It was a good way to find out if this was going to be an awkward coffee and a chilly goodbye, or the potential for… _something else_. Bucky wasn’t even sure he knew anymore what something else was. Or even what he wanted it to be.

Tony put his coffee down and propped his elbows on the table, leaning his chin in his hands, studying Bucky’s face. “How long have you been back?”

“Eight an’ a half months,” he said. Two hundred and sixty-two days, to be exact, but he discovered most people didn’t like it when he broke things down that far. Made him sound… weird. Robotic. Obsessed. He wasn’t sure. “Medical discharge.”

“Yeah, I kind of put that bit together,” Tony said. “I’ve known some military folks. Transition’s always tough, even without medical bullshit to deal with.”

“Well, my sister likes to remind me that normal people sometimes have accidents, too,” Bucky said. “I coulda come home on a regular end-of-duty and fallen off a mountain going skiing or somethin’.”

“Suppose so,” Tony agreed. “The odds were pretty strong, though. You got people, though? Besides your sister and your cat?”

“My friend, Steve,” Bucky said. “His girlfriend. They met at art school.” He thought back to all the people he _didn’t_ have anymore. It still hurt, the holes in him that people couldn’t see. Sometimes he thought those holes were even harder to heal than the more visible scars. “One of the guys in my unit, he came home ‘round the same time I did. We, uh, we’re supposed to meet up one of these days. We keep saying we will.”

“You should,” Tony said. He grinned. “Though I’m one to talk. This may be the first face-to-face interaction I’ve had in months.” He took another sip of his coffee, mouthed it for a while, like he was savoring the bitterness of it. “Tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to answer, but -- okay, what’s the worst part?”

“The _actual_ worst part?” Bucky considered his drink; it wasn’t large enough to drown himself in. “People keep _thanking_ me. For my service. For my _sacrifice_. Like I personally kept ISIS from… I don’t even know. Perfect strangers are honoring me for shootin’ people I didn’t know in a war we don’t have any clear objectives for. I wasn’t over there protectin’ anyone. I was doing my job, that’s all. This country’s military worship borders on the obscene.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that would suck.” He was quiet for a moment longer, then shook himself. “Your turn,” he said. “Ask me something.”

“What’s the best part?” Bucky wondered. “You said a lot of what you do is spite-fueled, and you don’t _have to_ … and you’re good, you’re _really_ good. I know, I’ve-- well, obviously I have a serious case of Chaos in my life, so I watch a lot of videos.”

Tony appeared to think about it for a bit. “Is it a problem if the best part is also a little bit spite-fueled? Because the money I get for doing the shows... Part of it goes to pay for that premium account, and everything else goes to charity. And when some asshat is particularly awful, I try to figure out which charity would make them the maddest to know that’s where their money is going. That Xbones guy? All his tips go to a battered women’s shelter.”

_Oh, I am in so much trouble_ , Bucky thought. Later, he would look back at this particular moment and think _that was when I fell in… well, not love. But heavily admiring like/lust._ “He really is a douchenozzle,” Bucky agreed. There was a hole in his coffee cup, he decided. That was the only reason that his coffee was gone so fast. He lifted the cup anyway and pretended to drink, so that he didn’t have to say thanks and bye so soon. “A healthy bit of spite is good for you. What’s your go-to bar drink?” Getting to know you questions, but at the same time, Bucky was desperately interested. He wanted to know what Tony liked to drink, what he wanted to eat. What he did in his spare time. His favorite movie and the songs he’d take to a deserted island.  Secrets and truths and facts. Did he like to go to plays and museums, or was he the kind of guy who blew off culture to play video games?

What would Tony be like, to kiss? What did he taste like, and what was he like first thing in the morning.

_Slow it down, Barnes._

“Scotch,” Tony said. “Or a nice craft beer if I’m feeling mellow. What do you drink?”

“Vodka, but _good_ vodka. Not that flavored shit that comes in airplane bottles,” Bucky said. “Martini, if I’m feelin’ snobby, and Cosmos when I want to get shit-faced and not puke.”

Tony pointed at him. “That was a test. You passed. Well done.” He peered into the bottom of his coffee cup. “Damn. You want to get out of here? Go for a walk or a movie or something?”

When was the last time he’d done an ‘or something’ with anyone? Someone who made butterflies kick up in his stomach, who made him want to be out of his apartment, who--- “Yes,” Bucky said. “Yeah. A walk, or something. That’d… that’d be great.”

***

As it happened, there was a park just down the block from the coffee shop. It wasn’t particularly large, but it had some trees and some paths for strolling and some weird modern art for them to walk around confusedly and mock.

They talked. A lot. Tony didn’t think he’d ever talked so much on a date in his life -- usually they jumped straight to the making out portion of the event, and while Tony definitely, _definitely_ would not say no to making out with Bucky, he was surprised at just how much he was enjoying the conversation.

Bucky was a little twitchy sometimes -- Tony couldn’t always figure out if it was the topics or something he’d seen from the corner of his eye or nothing at all causing it -- but it wasn’t like Tony didn’t have a hefty dose of eccentricities.

Being on a first date with someone who’d already seen him with all his clothes off was both weird and oddly freeing. It meant they didn’t have to dance around the topic of sex, which was nice. They spent a good half hour laughing their way through their most bizarre sexual encounters.

On the other hand, Tony wondered if Bucky was going to make a move. Or was waiting for Tony to make a move. Or if he was going to try to abide by the three-date rule even though they’d jerked off together only a week ago.

Bucky was in the process of telling a completely unrelated anecdote about life in the military and a package his sister had sent, mostly spray cheese and beef jerky, but for some reason had decided to include a bunch of romance novels, which he and his squad had spent time reading dramatically out loud to each other-- when he broke off to look down a side street with an odd expression of nostalgia.

“My, uh, my friend Steve, we grew up together, I think I said? We met down this way, buncha jerks had backed him into an alley, teasin’ him about being a-- well, being gay. Which he’s not, not that it mattered, but… they were about to toss him in a trash can when I decided to involve myself. I… uh, I’ve known what I am for as long as I can remember. And I decided, who best to take on a bunch of homophobic asshole kids than an actual gay kid?” He chuckled. “We got our asses handed to us, let me tell you. But the other kids didn’t look _much_ better. First time I kissed another boy, I brought him down this way. I never said why, but it seemed like a place to mark an occasion.”

He slanted a look at Tony, raised an eyebrow. “Wanna?”

“Absolutely,” Tony breathed. He reached out and caught the front of Bucky’s vest and tugged, backing up against the building wall so that Bucky was leaning over him. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for... _days_ , at least.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Wanted to th’ first time I saw you.” He gripped Tony’s chin with his fingers, brushing his thumb over Tony’s lower lip like he was marking his place. Bucky kissed him, light at first, a few brushing samples. His tongue darted out and slid along the crease of Tony’s lips, tickling at the sensitive join. His hand brushed along Tony’s cheek until his fingers were in Tony’s hair, pulling them closer as each movement of his mouth explored, learned, tasted, and teased.

Tony couldn’t help the almost desperate sound that climbed out of his throat. He tucked his hands around Bucky’s waist, brushing at that ridge of hipbone with his thumbs, teasing at the hem of Bucky’s shirt even as he pulled Bucky against him, a solid, comforting, exhilarating pressure. He gave himself over to Bucky’s slow and thorough exploration, gasping and sighing and moaning with pleasure. God, he’d _known_ Bucky would be a good kisser, but he’d never imagined anything as perfect and all-encompassing as this.

When Bucky finally pulled back, Tony felt half-dazed, blinking up at him in something like wonder.

“I… uh, I got a not-so-great bed, or a really comfy couch about six blocks from here,” Bucky offered, tentative. “Is it too soon, I mean, you don’t kiss like it’s too soon, but I been out of this game for a while.”

“Oh, good,” Tony said. “I was afraid you’d want to take it slow, and I very much do not want to take it slow. Let’s see this couch of yours.” He tipped his chin up to claim another kiss, feeling it shiver right down into his balls. “Mm, yeah. Yeah, no waiting.”

Bucky’s building wasn’t far, and larger than Tony might have expected. Third floor, although there was a creaky little elevator, it was faster and easier to take the stairs. The smells of a variety of cooking food, someone using incense to cover what was probably a terrible pot habit, cleaning supplies. Bucky had upgraded his door, more than likely. Instead of the deadbolt and knob lock which made up his neighbor’s security, Bucky had a proximity card and keypad lock. Of course, using a regular keychain with multiple keys probably wasn’t as simple for a guy who could only use one hand.

The living room/dining room combo was so neat that it was almost painful. There were six chairs around the dining room table, but the surface was clear of clutter, and the nearby shelves had obviously been dusted in the not-too-distant past. Despite that, there was an air of… not precisely neglect, but of disuse.

The paint was older, reminiscent somehow of the early eighties, and certainly not to anything Tony would have considered Bucky’s taste, all dark blue with flowers and a lot of decorative crockery on the shelves. There was a family portrait above the television that featured a much younger Bucky with his parents, sister, and a younger brother.

The couch, as promised, looked comfortable; with an array of decorative throw pillows, a couple of blankets, and one fat black and white splotchy cat taking up space. A sliding laptop desk was pulled over the center, and the coffee table had a single mug sitting on a coaster. The mug had a shaped handle and said “Lefties do it right” in bright red letters.

Tony winced inwardly: if Bucky was left-handed, that made the loss of that arm even worse. Mentioning it would probably kill the mood, though. Right? Yeah, probably. Even Tony wasn’t that thick. “Nice place,” he said instead, and perched on the edge of the couch to let the cat sniff his fingers.

“It was my parents’,” Bucky said. “Dad left it to me. Ma lives with Becca and her husband, over in Flushing. So, it’s just me. And Moe, of course.” The cat deigned to let Tony pet him for a moment, before jumping over to twine around Bucky’s legs, and announce that he had never been fed, ever, ever in the whole history of history.

Bucky made some efforts not to trip over the cat on his way to the sofa. “Is this real, are you… I swear, if I wake up in a sweat in like two minutes, I’m gonna be seriously pissed off.” He didn’t wait for Tony to answer that, just kissed him again, licking at the sensitive underside of Tony’s lip, making his mouth tingle.

Tony melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck, pushing his fingers into Bucky’s hair. When Bucky’s tongue pushed into Tony’s mouth, he twisted, throwing his leg over to straddle Bucky’s lap. He tugged lightly at Bucky’s hair, tipping Bucky’s head back, and bent down to nip at the corner of Bucky’s jaw.

“Careful, baby boy,” Bucky told him, pushing up Tony’s shirt, fingers dancing across Tony’s back, his sides, over his belly. “Don’t want you to go over backward on the coffee table.” He managed, through sheer stubbornness, it seemed, to get Tony’s shirt off one arm, and over his head before going back to kissing Tony greedily.

Tony let go of Bucky long enough to strip his shirt the rest of the way off and toss it impatiently to the side, then let his hands slide up under Bucky’s shirt, finally getting his hands on those amazing abs. He worked Bucky’s shirt upward, ignoring the vest, lost in the sensation of Bucky’s mouth on his, those full lips, that soft scruff of stubble, the slick slide of tongues. Bucky’s mouth still tasted faintly of coffee and sugar. It was intoxicating.

“What--” Bucky kissed him again, nuzzling in Tony’s ear, licking at the shell before sucking the lobe. He ran his hand down Tony’s ribs, then brushed light over the front of Tony’s jeans, barely enough pressure to feel anything. “What all’s… how far do you want me t’ get?” He pulled back a little to look at Tony. Bucky’s mouth was red and swollen from kissing, puffy and perfect. He gave Tony a truly obnoxious little smirk, “There’s, uh, a fifty in my front pocket. You know, just in case.”

Tony mock-glared at him. “Just for that, I ought to make _you_ put on a show for _me_.”

“You can watch _me_ blow you,” Bucky offered, and that tongue flicked out again, wetting his lip.

Oh, _fuck_. Tony’s dick was absolutely, positively, 100% invested now. If Bucky was even half as good with his mouth during a blowjob as he was kissing... “God, yes,” Tony groaned.

He took advantage of the small distance between them to push Bucky’s vest off and pull that sinfully tight shirt up over Bucky’s head.

Bucky twitched, hard, his hand moving as if to cover the scarring on his left shoulder, mostly pale pink, twisted and lumpy, along with a handful of bruises along the stump. Tony watched him visibly stiffen, lean back. There was a set of his spine and jaw that said _well, look, then_ , as if it were a challenge.

Tony had never been able to resist a challenge. He looked, not trying to hide it, and then slid his fingers gently over the seam of the scars. “Anywhere I shouldn’t touch? Painful or sensitive spots?”

“The, uh, the end bit is painful. If I bump it, the evenin’s like to go for me rooting around for my pain meds,” Bucky told him. “Th’ rest of it’s just weird. Some of it’s numb, nerve damage. Some of it’s normal, and sometimes, I can feel it, but not in the spot where someone’s touching. Like my nerves got picked up and moved.” He shivered as Tony ran light fingers across his collarbone and down the pectoral, where there was shrapnel scarring. “You’ll, uh, be the first, so I don’t really know, for sure.”

Tony had suspected that was probably the case, but it still sent a little thrill through him to hear it. “Okay. So if I do something you don’t like, let me know, right? No harm no foul.” He leaned in to mouth down the line of Bucky’s neck, licking over the vein and tracing it down to nuzzle into the hollow of Bucky’s throat. His hands curled over Bucky’s shoulders, thumbs brushing the collarbones.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said, but he was pushing into Tony’s touch like a big cat, practically purring, eyes heavily lidded. “Feels good.” He relaxed by degrees, each bruch or touch or stroke bringing soft sighs and little encouraging noises. He rolled his hips up, bouncing Tony in his lap. Claimed his mouth for another kiss, then nudged him. “Go on, get up. I gotta stand if I’m gonna get out of these pants, an’ we probably wanna switch this up if I’m gonna give you that blowjob I promised.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Tony said. He slid off Bucky’s lap, pushing the coffee table back a little in the process, and stepped back to make room for Bucky. He unzipped his own pants, letting his hips swing around a little, like he did on camera, feeling the weight of Bucky’s gaze like a warm blanket. “Yeah, come on, get naked for me, hot stuff.”

“Show off,” Bucky accused, but it sounded fond, approving, rather than cranky. Bucky was not smooth. He struggled upright, arm groping for the back of the sofa to push himself off, and then it took a few minutes to deal with the belt one-handed. The belt hole was warped, probably from repeated tugging.

But he did eventually get himself undressed.

Tony hadn’t gotten much of a good look, really. Bucky’s camera wasn’t great, and he obviously wasn’t putting on a show, so he hadn’t given much, if any, thought to angles and zooms and the sort of thing that made Tony’s job half stripper and half audio-visual nerd.

Bucky was lean, ropy muscle. A little on the thin side for his height, but carved from marble. He had lovely, narrow hips and thighs that could crack a man’s head like a walnut. Tony wasn’t sure why that was sexy, but damn! look at the _results_.

And while he’d seen Bucky’s cock before, it wasn’t quite the same thing as being in the same room with it. The camera did not do it justice at all, long and lovely and twitching involuntarily with interest as Tony, frankly, gawked. “Oh my god,” he moaned. “Look at you.” He stepped in close and drew his hand up the shaft, feeling that soft-smooth slide of skin, confirming with touch what his eyes already told him about Bucky’s size. “You’re a god damned work of _art_ , honey.”

The way Bucky gasped and pushed into his touch was just as gorgeous. Tony would love to just stroke Bucky off, learn every twitch and shiver and moan. He traced a fingertip around the head of Bucky’s cock, dragging through a bead of precome, eyes on Bucky’s face, the way Bucky’s eyelids fluttered. “Gorgeous.”

Bucky shivered, bounced up on his toes. “I feel,” he said, hesitantly, “like you should be kissin’ me when you do that… _fuck_ , that feels amazin’.”

Tony stepped a little closer, tipping his head back so he could kiss Bucky, and went on with his slow exploration, tracing each ridge and curve and dip, memorizing Bucky’s reactions. “You _do_ feel amazing,” he agreed, breath hot where it spilled between them. “You _are_ amazing.”

Bucky made a noncommittal sort of sound, like he didn’t agree with Tony, but wasn’t interested in arguing. With each curl of his tongue against Tony’s, Bucky drew him closer, until they were rubbing against each other, skin to skin, body to body. Bucky turned them, slowly. “Down,” he said, bumping Tony onto the sofa, “before I get carried away.”

The fabric was some sort of microsuede, soft under Tony’s bare ass, the cushions puffy and he sunk down a little. More when Bucky dropped to his knees, between Tony’s thighs. He glanced up at Tony though unfairly thick eyelashes. “You are,” he said, sincerely, “utterly delectable.”

With that pronouncement, Bucky went about proving it. He took a long, wet swipe along the length of Tony’s cock, then pushed back to gauge Tony’s reaction.

Tony had to fight not to push up immediately into that wet heat. “Oh god,” he groaned. Fuck, it had been way too long since someone else had touched Tony like this, since another person had wanted to make him feel good. He threaded his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “God, yes, more, please.”

“Yeah?” Bucky looked pleased as punch, a wide grin painting over his mouth for an instant before he practically disappeared under the wave of his hair. Tony could feel that damn smile, stretching Bucky’s mouth, as he took Tony in, licked and sucked at him, like he had all the time in the world to make Tony cry out, shake and beg for it, and didn’t mind proving it. Bucky teased at Tony’s thigh with his fingers, sliding his hand up and down Tony’s leg while his mouth was busy.

From time to time, Bucky would tip his chin, look up at Tony with those wide, seen-too-much silver eyes, intense and hot and sincere, as if to make sure Tony was still enjoying it.

As if Tony could possibly _not_ enjoy it. Bucky’s mouth was the sweetest, hottest, most sinful torture he could imagine, and every second of it was pure bliss. He carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, ran his hands down over Bucky’s shoulders, squeezed and caressed as much of Bucky as he could reach. Every time he opened his eyes, the sight of Bucky’s full mouth stretched around Tony’s cock just ratcheted the heat up another few notches, until he was practically begging with every other breath, shaking with the effort of holding still. “Oh, fuck, god, Bucky, honey, god _please_ , oh god oh god you-- _Oh_...”

Bucky tongue writhed against Tony’s skin, etching out the very last bit of pleasure in him, and then his lips tightened and his mouth twisted. He swallowed, and the pulsing squeeze of that swallow drew Tony in and obliterated him. Bucky swallowed, and then he kept doing it, even after Tony finished his spend, the rippling throb of it a delicate agony of pleasure, working him through his aftershocks until Tony was twitchy with overstimulation. Bucky pulled away with a pleased hum, then darted back in one last time for a long, thorough lick, which drew a shuddering moan from Tony’s lips.

“Well, glad to be right,” Bucky said, and when Tony made a great effort to look at him, Bucky winked. “My privilege.”

Tony huffed out a tired laugh. “You can feel free to do that anytime you want,” he sighed. He took another few slow breaths, then pushed himself upright. “Ready to let me return the favor?”

“Gettin’ head from th’ most beautiful man I ever saw? _Hell_ yes, sign me up,” Bucky said. He lowered himself down to the couch, heat radiating off him as his thigh brushed Tony’s. “Dear Penthouse, I never thought this could happen to me…” Bucky let out that cheerful, bright laugh again, the one that seemed to surprise him every time he did it.

Tony laughed, too, the sound contagious. Then he nudged and pushed until Bucky was laying on the couch, and wriggled his way between Bucky’s thighs. “Mm, you look so delicious,” he purred. Looking through his lashes up at Bucky’s face, he nuzzled at the base of Bucky’s cock, teasing, darting licks that he knew were as much about what Bucky was watching as what he was feeling.

Bucky’s knees came up to cradle Tony between them, and he brushed his fingers over Tony’s cheekbone in a tender caress. “God, that’s sweet,” he murmured.  

“Good.” Tony licked up the length of Bucky’s cock, enjoying the warmth, the way it pulsed under his tongue. “Just so you know, I kind of like having my hair pulled. And if you give me a couple of minutes to warm up, you can definitely fuck my throat.” He grinned and started licking at the head, teasing at the sensitive spot behind the tip, licking up the bittersalt taste of Bucky’s precome.

“Jesus Christ, th’ mouth on you,” Bucky exclaimed. “An’ I ain’t sure if I mean the dirty talk, or jus-- holy _Christ_ , Tony!” He took Tony’s words to heart, though, taking a handful of Tony’s hair near the base of his skull and tugging it, just hard enough to send tingles up Tony’s spine. “Do you like that when someone fucks you, too? Pulls your head back right as they’re givin’ it to ya?”

Tony groaned his agreement and sucked Bucky’s dick into his mouth, flattening his tongue and rippling it along Bucky’s shaft. He hummed a little, let the vibrations draw out another few curses, and set to work pushing Bucky farther and farther back into his throat. Bucky was big enough to make Tony’s jaw ache after only a few moments, but that was good, that was perfect, that little bit of grounding. Tony reminded his throat that it didn’t need to gag, and pushed deeper.

Bucky made sweet, soft little noises, whimpers and moans and exhaled with little whines. He tugged Tony’s hair again, a few more times, and then he cupped Tony’s face. Tender, sweet. Brushed his thumb along Tony’s lower lip, tracing the circle of Tony’s mouth. Then up, using his knuckle to catch the single tear beading on Tony’s lashes.

Tony tipped his head a little to rub his cheek against Bucky’s hand, catlike, then went back to work, determined to blow Bucky’s mind. He wanted to know the sound Bucky made when he came, wanted to keep that with him forever. God. Bucky was such a sweetheart, even when he was getting a blowjob, it was actually kind of unbelievable. Bucky deserved the best.

Tony hollowed his cheeks and did everything he knew how to do with his tongue, slipping a hand under him to cup Bucky’s balls, slide downward to tease at Bucky’s crack.

“Holy christ,” Bucky wailed, thrusting up again, helplessly. His hand grabbed at the back of the sofa and he used it as leverage, fucking up into Tony’s mouth with relentless abandon, whining on every movement until-- “Oh, Christ, Tony, I’m-- gonna--”

Bucky arched up, the sound coming out of his throat was wanton, shameless, utterly _wrecked_ , as he spilled into Tony’s mouth.

Tony swallowed, and swallowed again, and a third time. When Bucky went limp, panting for breath, Tony pulled back a little, suckling gently, teasing Bucky through the aftershocks, humming happily.

“Great fucking god and little sonny Jesus,” Bucky blasphemed, absently petting Tony’s neck as he struggled to catch his breath. “You’re some kinda holy terror.”

“Mm, yeah,” Tony said, mostly just to hear the rasp in his voice. “Terror is definitely what I was going for, there.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky agreed, amiably. He tugged at Tony’s arm until he scooted up, half laying on Bucky, with Bucky’s arm going around his back in what was decidedly some post-orgasmic snuggling. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but most of Tony’s more recent hookups had been the fuck-and-run or the fuck-and-pass-out-on-the-bed types. Not much for touchy-feely affectionate.

Bucky kissed Tony’s hair, nosed through it gently. “Gotta say, more’n I was expectin’ out of a coffee date. Thank you.”

“Play your cards right, you’ll find out what goes along with a dinner date,” Tony teased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is Thanksgiving Day here in the US, where we both live -- and one of the many things we're thankful for is _all of you_. Seriously, more wonderful readers cannot possibly exist! Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and support!


	5. Chapter 5

“You went on a date?” Steve asked. It was about the fifth time he’d said so, and the tone of incredulity was getting a little hard to swallow. Speaking of--

“Had sex, too,” Bucky remarked, a trifle too casually. “About right where you’re sitting, as a matter of fact.” He waited until Steve leapt to his feet, brushing at the back of his jeans in disgust before adding, “don’t worry, I flipped the cushion.”

“Was it good sex?” Nat demanded.

“Amazing,” Bucky said, and he couldn’t quite help the after-afterglow smile that tugged at his mouth. “Life-affirming, come to Jesus moment. Swear.”

“Ug.” Steve didn’t quite stuff his fingers in his mouth to gag, but it looked like he was fighting the urge.

Bucky threw a throw pillow at him. “Shut up, man,” he said. “You’re the one who wanted me to get out more.”

“I’m not sure fucking on the sofa is getting out, exactly.”

“Details,” Nat said, raising one eyebrow. “Let’s have them.”

“Uh, I didn’t actually measure it, but it’s about yay big--” Bucky stretched out his finger and thumb.

“Not _those_ details,” Steve added, hastily.

“Oh,” Bucky said, sagely, rubbing his chin. “Um, his name’s Tony, he’s maybe three or four years younger than I am.” Or maybe five or six; Bucky hadn’t asked and the only thing he was _positive_ of was that Tony was at least eighteen, based on Chaturbate’s policies for performers, and that he was probably over twenty-one, since they’d talked about bars and drinking. “Total nerd. We had an actual discussion about warp technology.”

Steve didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll. Steve was not into science fiction at all; he prefered historical biographies, nonfiction, and art history books to anything fun. Bucky’d tried to read Steve’s favorite book once. Fell asleep in the first three chapters and never picked it up again. “Sounds like you’ve known him for a while?”

That was a leading question. Bucky considered it. “Uh, about two… two and a half months now, I think.”

Nat considered him narrowly. “Where did you meet this Tony?”

“Chatroom,” Bucky said, quickly. It wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. Lots of people hooked up over the internet these days. It was safer (and cheaper) than dating a bunch of random strangers. Right? “And we… just sort of hit it off. He offered coffee if I was ever in the city, and, weirdly enough, he doesn’t live that far away.”

“And you haven’t said anything about it before, why?”

“He’s a online friend,” Bucky said. “There wasn’t anything to tell until last week.”

“Mm,” Nat allowed. “You going to see him again, or was it a one-time thing?”

“We’ve texted a bit,” Bucky said, and that was almost not a lie. They had texted. Quite a lot. Bucky’s voice-to-text program was actually getting a lot better at interpreting his voice, it was that frequent. “An’ he’s gonna be in the chat tonight.”

Bucky was actually nervous about that, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself. Was it going to be different, now that he’d actually met Tony, touched him, tasted him, to watch him perform? And did Bucky want it to be different? He wasn’t sure if jealousy was going to be an issue -- what did he have to be jealous over? They’d gone on one date. An enormously successful first date, admittedly, but…

Bucky tucked that back in his _For Later_ mental folder. “But yeah, I think… I want to see him again.”

Nat beamed happily. “Good! Send me the link, I want to meet him.”

Bucky choked. “What, _why_?” No, no _fucking_ way. He could -- probably -- deal with Tony’s job. He was going to deal with that. But he was pretty damn sure he didn’t want his friends -- not to mention the fact that Steve was going to have _words_ for Bucky about dating a sex worker -- watching Tony's show.

“We have to make sure he’s good enough for you,” Nat said seriously. “Don’t think I don’t remember you vetting me for Steve.”

“You almost _stabbed_ Steve the first time you met him,” Bucky squawked. “I think it’s perfectly reasonable to be worried about my best friend when he’s dating a chick that uses a hairclip as a weapon.”

She waved that away. “And you are dating a guy you met online who could be _anyone_.” She rounded her eyes at him, making them huge and liquid and sad. “We just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Tony could, in fact, be _anyone_. Bucky didn’t know much about him, in the sense of-- shit, he didn’t even know Tony’s last name. Or if his name really _was_ Tony. It’d be smart to use a fake name, as a sex worker, wouldn’t it? Although Tony seemed to answer to it, quick enough. Bucky chewed his lip. “I don’t think you in the chat would be a good plan, Nat,” he said. “It’s, you know. For gay guys. Which, you absolutely aren’t.”

Steve made one of his elaborate faces. “What, she’s into hot guys, you’re into hot guys, same same, right?”

“That might well be one of the stupidest things you’ve said,” Bucky said. “A for effort, D for execution. No. No. _Girls_ are not even close to the same thing as a gay. I mean, if they were, bi erasure wouldn’t be a thing.”

“I could pretend to be a gay guy,” Nat persisted. “You could even still call me Nat. Could be short for Nathaniel.”

“I _really_ don’t think that’s necessary,” Bucky said, just as stubborn. “If Tony was going to rob or stab me, I think he would have had his best opportunity t’ do that when we were--” he gestured to the sofa again, making Steve get up again and eye a stain with suspicion. It was a pop stain from last night that Bucky hadn’t gotten around to scrubbing out, but Steve didn’t know that. Nat opened her mouth to plead her case again, and Bucky added, “We talk about sex stuff, you really don’t want to be there. They don’t make enough brain bleach for you to do that to yourself.”

Nat’s smile was sharp and toothy. “Obviously, you have no idea what women like to fantasize about.”

Well, _that_ was, no doubt, true. “I’m pretty sure if I let you in that chat room, Nat, you an’ Steve are gonna be stagin’ an intervention for me, pronto. Lemme, just, you know. See how it’s going before you either scare him t’ death or decide I’m out of my gourd, finally?”

Nat folded her arms and exchanged a look with Steve, one of those creepy looks they’d started doing about twenty minutes into their relationship where they seemed to have entire _conversations_ with a couple of raised eyebrows and the twitch of a lip. “Why,” Nat asked carefully, turning back to Bucky, “would we be staging an intervention for you?” She lifted her eyebrows at him as he opened his mouth to protest and added, “You know we’re going to find out. You might as well come clean.”

“This is why I never want t’ tell you anything.” Bucky shoved himself out of his chair and paced around the living room a few times. “Can we just… try to keep an open mind? Is that too much t’ ask?”

Steve actually looked concerned. “What, is he, like a murderer out on parole, or something? One of those neo-nazi skin-heads? An _art critic_?”

Nat’s head was cocked to the side. “Is he a prostitute?”

Steve blinked and looked at his girlfriend. “They have those? Boy whores?”

“Oh my _god_ , Steven!” Bucky scrubbed at his face with his hand. “ _Yes_.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was saying yes to, since yes, there were boy prostitutes, just how dense was Steve sometimes? For fuck’s sake, really? And yes, Tony… well, he wasn’t a prostitute, but yes, probably everyone who wasn’t making distinctions would think that. Hell, Bucky had made that assumption -- or at least asked if it was the case.

Nat gave Steve an unimpressed look and rolled her eyes at Steve’s defensive “how was I supposed to know?” gesture, and then turned back to Bucky. “Open minds,” she agreed. “We will reserve judgement.”

“He’s a camboi,” Bucky said, flopping back in his chair in defeat, then winced as he banged the end of his stump on the chair arm. “That’s how we met, we just... got to talking, after.”

“You spend money on that shi--” Steve gave Nat a hurt look as she elbowed him. “What? There’s perfectly good _free_ porn on the internet, if that’s-- _what_?”

“No,” Bucky said, firmly. “There is not perfectly good free porn. Most of the good porn is behind a pay-wall. Free porn is all blurry or cishet junk. I mean, I’m not saying there’s not some amateur stuff out there worth watching, but…” Bucky trailed off, mostly because he really never thought in a million years that he’d be discussing his sex life with his childhood best friend and his girlfriend.

“How Bucky spends his money is his business,” Nat told Steve firmly. Then she turned that same steely look on Bucky. “You understand why we have some concerns, though. Are you certain it was a _date_?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bucky said. “I mean, I bought him a cup of coffee, but… no money exchanged hands. It was a date. You don’t have t’ worry about me. Tony’s a good guy. He’s not pretending to be into me for money.” Hell, Tony’s camera set up was probably more valuable than all of Bucky’s electronics put together.

“Of course we have to worry about you,” Nat said. “You’re our friend. But we will trust you in this. Won’t we, Steven?”

“We will?” Steve asked, then hastily corrected, “sure, we will. Right. Okay, but like, if you’re still seein’ him in… two weeks. Then we have a double date, or something, okay?”

Bucky heaved a sigh. What had he done in a past life to deserve this? “Okay. Double date. No group things. I don’t want you draggin’ Sam an’ Wanda and Pietro into this, okay? Let’s not scare the guy to death.” _Jesus_ , if Bucky unleashed the twins around Tony with no warning, Tony was going to find a hole in the ground to climb into and pull a rock in over himself.

“Just the four of us,” Nat promised. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You know it’s only because we love you, right?”

“I know,” Bucky said, because that was true, too. There were days he wasn’t sure he would have made it through those first few months if it hadn’t been for Steve and Nat and their sometimes awkward and nosy support, but it was rock steady. “I love you guys, too.”

***

“So,” Tony said as soon as Rhodey picked up, “you know that thing I promised you wasn’t going to happen?”

“You got your dad to sign off on the Green Science initiative?”

Tony snorted. “As if. I’m going to have to wait until he retires and wrest the Board of Directors from his ancient and withered hands. No, I meant with the... other job.”

“You and your exhibitionist streak,” Rhodey sighed fondly. At least Tony was going to assume it was fondly. “Wait, did someone figure out who you were?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “I told you, no one looks at faces in these things. Anyway, people only recognize me if I’m standing next to Dad.”

“Then what -- you ran into one of your customers somewhere.”

“Sort of?” Tony hedged.

“Tony. What did you do.”

“I might have, sort of, gone on a date with one of them, a little bit.”

“ _Tony_. How do you go on a _little bit_ of a date?”

“It was just coffee,” Tony defended. “Met in a public place, made sure neither of us were serial killers, had a coffee and talked.”

“Coffee, or _coffee_ , Tones? I can practically feel you holding out on me, here. You wouldn’t have called me if you had a cup, decided the guy was a dick and walked away. Your _mom_ sets you up on coffee dates all the time.” Rhodey was tapping his cell against his chin in the way that he did when Tony was frustrating him. Tony could hear the _whosh whosh_ as the speaker moved closer and further away from Rhodey’s mouth.

“My mom sets me up with socialites who want to marry money and think I’m going to be impressed with their daddy’s yachts or the size of the diamonds on their tennis bracelets,” Tony pointed out. “And it was, you know. Coffee, and then we walked around a little and talked some more, and then went back to his place and blew each other. You know, pretty standard stuff.”

“I’d love to say I was surprised by this, but I ain’t,” Rhodey said. “Par for the course, for you and dating. Which brings me to the question of what _you_ expected out of this conversation? I literally got a second bachelor’s degree in Dragging Tony’s Mostly Naked Ass out of Parties and other People’s Beds. So… what’s different this time? Unless you got arrested for solicitation. In which case, I’m totally there. I can’t _wait_ to see you do an actual perp walk.” Despite that, Tony could almost see Rhodey pulling up his checking account balance to see if he had enough to bail Tony out.

“It wasn’t _solicitation_ , it was a _date_ ,” Tony said, mock offended. “No money changed hands. I called you because I need you to tell me how to do this.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Rhodey said. “Oh. A date. A _date_ date. A date, _maybe-I-actually-like-this-person_ date?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Tony mumbled. “It’s not _that_ weird.” He got up and started pacing around his workshop.

“Yeah, it is,” Rhodey said. “You like him. You like him, and you think he might like you… which means--” Rhodey took a deep breath. “He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Tony said, probably more irritably than Rhodey deserved. “We talked about this, remember? Tweaking my dad with the camboi channel was one thing, but waving red flags in front of the press was another? He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Okay. I have a solution for you,” Rhodey said. “Change your name, move out of the state, and never, _ever_ do this again.” He waited a beat, “I’m kidding. I’d miss you, if nothing else. You know, not to point out the obvious, but someone can be interested in you without being attracted to the potential sugar baby aspect of it and still not be a good guy, right?”

“Trust me, I am aware.” Some of Tony’s more vocal and foul-mouthed followers, for example. “I think he is, though.” Tony sighed. “I just want to... to date someone like a normal person for once.”

“So, date like a normal person,” Rhodey said. “Go to movies, get a carriage ride in the park, go to dinner. Talk. Advice: I know you don’t really recognize that money means… anything. But if you want to be normal, keep your dates under two hundred dollars. People who don’t come from money _notice_ that kind of shit. No elaborate presents. Bring him flowers from the bodega. I don’t know, my dating life’s not exactly, you know, _blossoming_ or anything.”

“That’s because you are being a coward and won’t ask Pepper out,” Tony said airily. “Where the hell do people go for under two hundred dollars?”

“Queens,” Rhodey said, flippantly. “There’s a sandwich shop-- I don’t know, Tony, use Google like you were a real person and everything. So, while you’re panicking about what to do for a second date, what’s… tell me about him?”

“Um. Ex-military. Army, I think. Medical discharge. He’s still fighting some PTSD, I’m pretty sure, but he’s... You’re not going to laugh at me if I say he’s sweet, are you?  He is. He’s just... He _cares_. Also, incredibly bangin’ hot. His abs, holy _shit_.”

“You sound like a high school girl with a crush,” Rhodey told him. “It’s cute. Almost normal.  And, um, Tones?”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re still seeing him, in like, a month, you need to work out how to tell him who you are. That’s… not a little thing, and it can be a deal breaker. You’ll want to know that, sooner rather than later. Before you get too attached.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. He didn’t bother mentioning that he was probably already too attached. Rhodey knew.

“Well, keep me informed. I’ll wanna plan for it if I gotta come up to the city and kick his ass,” Rhodey said, voice as warm as a hug.

“Yeah, I will,” Tony said. “Thanks, sugarplum.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter primarily takes place during one of Tony's shows. For the smut-adverse, the sexy times are masturbatory and scattered throughout the whole chapter.

Tony glanced back at the screen, but the private message there hadn’t changed since the last time he’d looked.

Private message from StrangeAttraction: _$200 to do a show in lingerie?_

He got specific requests fairly frequently, often with offers attached. Tony didn’t have any problem rejecting the ones that didn’t interest him, or even ignoring the ones that were disrespectful and gross. Of course, he didn’t usually have any problem accepting the ones that _did_ intrigue him, either, but it was proving to be difficult, this time.

StrangeAttraction was one of Tony’s long-time regulars. He didn’t attend every show, but Tony usually saw him once a week or so. He rarely spoke up in the chat, but he tipped generously and his occasional requests were almost always fun.

Tony was feeling a little weird about this one, though, and he wasn’t sure why.

That was a lie. It was absolutely because of Bucky.

He hadn’t felt weird about setting up for his usual show. Bucky knew what he did, and would have to deal with it, or move on, because Tony intended to keep doing the shows as long as it amused him to do them.

But accepting a personal request felt... well, personal. Like Tony was giving part of himself to that person. Which was true, really. And Tony didn’t want Bucky to feel like Tony was deliberately flaunting that aspect of the job.

Didn’t want to push Bucky so hard that he’d give up on them right away.

Tony sighed and stared at the ceiling some more. _If he can’t handle it, it’s probably better to find out now than later,_ said a corner of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Rhodey.

Tony let out a frustrated groan. Tony was a lot to deal with. He’d be lucky if he managed to keep Bucky coming around for more than a couple of weeks once Bucky started to figure out just _how much_ Tony was to deal with.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought, pushing upright. _Rip the bandaid off._ He reached for the computer keyboard and tapped out a response. _Hope you’ll enjoy tonight’s show!_

Tony pushed away from the computer and went to the cabinet where he kept all his stuff for the show. He didn’t use lingerie very often, but he had a few things. He fished out a nice little babydoll teddy in a warm red, and matching underpants. It was a little bit garish, but the color would look good on the camera.

The satin was smooth and cool against his skin, and his cock perked up a little just at the feel of it. The roughness of the lace dragged over his nipples, making them peak. The panties rode high in the back, showing off the curves of his ass, and only barely contained his cock in the front. He pulled on a robe over everything -- his audience loved a strip tease -- and then checked his lights and camera. Made sure his favorite toys and lube was in easy reach, and a towel for afterward.

Only a few minutes to starting time, so he blanked the screen and opened the chat so the earlybirds could talk amongst themselves. Tony sometimes got some last-minute inspiration from seeing what they were hoping for or liked best in previous shows.

This time, though, he didn’t watch the chat. He closed his eyes and remembered Bucky, laid back on the couch, those gorgeous abs flexing, flush of arousal spreading down that perfect chest, mouth fallen open in a soundless _Oh_ as Tony licked at Bucky’s beautiful cock.

Tony slid a hand under the robe and trailed it over his own cock as he remembered, making sure he was fully erect, ready to show off for his audience.

The timer pinged its warning, and Tony straightened his clothes and perched on the edge of his chair. He looked into the camera with a warm, welcoming smile that he’d practiced for hours, and hit the _Go_ button. “Hey there, everyone,” he drawled. “Nice to see you all again. Who’s ready for some stress relief tonight? I know I am!”

He glanced at the scrawl of greetings and other responses in the chat, and his eye snagged momentarily on the _WinterSoldier_ in the list of logged-in users. He didn’t let it show, though. He responded to a few of the greetings, winked and flirted at the camera. Made sure to include StrangeAttraction in the handful of users he mentioned -- he tried to rotate the regulars through that list, so they all occasionally felt like they’d caught his eye.

“Who wants to guess what I’ve got cooked up for you boys tonight?” Tony teased. “Coming to you by way of special request from StrangeAttraction, who is apparently some kind of _wizard_ at figuring out exactly what’s going to get my blood pumping.” He turned his back toward the camera and let the shoulder of the robe slip just enough to show off the strap of the teddy, then looked over that shoulder with a wink.

Xbones: _Wanna see more of that dildo you had last time_

WearableBoyfriend: _did we care what Xbones wanted? When did we decide that._

WinterSoldier: _good to see you again, baby boy_

MrFantastic: _little lace, little leather? $50 for you to get that crop out_

“ _Fantastic_ guess, Mr. F,” Tony laughed, “but not quite. And we’ll see, we’ll see how I’m feeling once I’m ready to really get down to business, hmm? Nice to see you too, Sugar Soldier. Are you at attention for me?” He smirked and let the back of the robe drop a little further, until the collar was brushing his shoulder blades. “Hm, tell me what you think, fellas.”

The background music shifted and Tony did a little shimmy and spin, showing off his shoulders and the top of the teddy, but not quite letting the robe drop below his nipples.

WinterSoldier: _Good color for you_

Xbones: _like to rip it right off you_

StrangeAttractions: _perfect_

Tony grinned. “Glad you approve, Strange-and-sexy.” Tony dragged it out a little more, but it didn’t take long before the robe had been tossed out of frame and Tony was left dancing and wiggling in his lingerie. “Show your appreciation, gentlemen. A guy likes to feel pretty sometimes.”

The token drops rang up, little gold coins in the corner of his screen like a hyperactive Mario game. Every once in a while his computer would have a little coin explosion as certain goal markers for the night’s session were met. The first hundred left way behind by StrangeAttraction’s initial donation, but the marker popped to three hundred before it petered out again. A few times, Tony had scored more than two grand for a ninety minute show, but usually his average was more like six or seven hundred. Still not at all shabby for ninety minutes of performance, and the odd couple of hours for set ups, and purchase of toys and stock.

If Howard actually ever did decide to kick him out, Tony wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry, at least.

Xbones: _come on, come on..._

StrangeAttractions: _Try hitting Alt-F4 to make him go faster._

**Xbones has left the channel**

MrFantastic: _Jesus, that worked??_

Tony suppressed a laugh. “You might be my new favorite, Stranger.” He danced around to face away again, running his hands down his hips as he pushed his ass back toward the camera. “You’re naughty. I like that.”

He danced and turned, letting his hands wander all over, pushing the cloth this way and that. Pinching at his nipples, pulling the fabric taut over his cock, tugging up the hem of the little babydoll to show off his stomach. “Now, what kind of fun should we have tonight?”

There were the usual handful of suggestions; WearableBoyfriend wondered if Tony had sounding toys; someone else wondered how many times Tony could get off in the time they had left. Xbones logged back into the channel with a rude _piss on the slut_ , which Tony wasn’t entirely sure if that was directed at him, or at Strange.

There were… no suggestions from WinterSoldier.

Well, that didn’t mean anything, really. Winter -- Bucky -- often just waited to see what Tony decided on. Which did not stop Tony from looking up at the list of logged-in users to make sure he was still there.

“I think I’d want a friend to help me out with sounding, Wearable,” Tony admitted. “But I’ll keep that in mind for the future, hm? I kind of like the idea of trying for a few in a row. I can get all sensitive and strung-out, and you can watch me get my pretty things all dirty. Yeah?” He dragged over his chair and positioned himself on it for the best view, one foot propped up on the desk. He looked into the camera. “This one’s just for you, honey.” He tugged the waistband of his panties down, letting his cock out, and reached for the lube.

***

 _Be cool, Barnes,_ Bucky told himself. He took an extra swig out of his vodka bottle before settling onto the sofa. _Just be cool._

Problem was, he didn’t know what cool meant in this situation. He felt a little like Chewbacca in Return of the Jedi. _Keep your distance without looking like you’re keeping your distance. I dunno, fly casual._

It probably wasn’t a test; Tony wasn’t going to refuse to see Bucky ever, ever again, if, say, Bucky didn’t log in. Or even if he did log in. And if Tony did either of those things, then it was probably for the best, anyway. This was Tony’s _job_ , and Bucky didn’t want to make it weird for him.

He just wasn’t quite sure what _weird_ meant. Exactly.

Bucky scanned through the list of people in the channel; he wouldn’t put it past Nat at all to figure out who-what-and-where. She was scarily good at shit like that. He also wouldn’t put it past her to log on with a name that she knew he would recognize and see if she could spin him up.

Sat back to enjoy the show. If he could; if watching the show didn’t weird him out entirely. It was weird. A little weird, at least.

There was the smug part of him, looking at Tony’s pretty face while he bantered with his regulars (Bucky only barely remembered to put in his standard greeting, because Tony would probably notice if Bucky was acting too out of character.) that thought _I’ve had that_.

The other part wanted to snarl at everyone else on the channel like he was a mongrel dog hoarding scraps of bone and meat. “Jealousy is an ugly emotion,” he told himself. Tony seemed like his normal self, at least. Flirty and sassy and unspecific as usual. Like he was having fun.

On a normal night, he might have opened a side conversation with StrangeAttraction, after the guy managed to troll Xbones right off the channel, that had been _hilarious_. Except… maybe it was safer if he didn’t. Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d say anything that might hint at a higher level of knowledge about how Tony felt about Xbones, or something that would lead anyone else to think that Bucky… _knew_ Tony.  

And maybe that would be okay, except maybe it wouldn’t.

He watched, brain still spinning.

Onscreen, Tony was jerking off, not even going for finesse, but racing the clock. Tony tossed his head back, revealing that pretty, vulnerable throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and Bucky was speared with sudden desire, remembering that same moment, the way Tony had sounded, the way he’d felt under Bucky’s hand; the way Bucky had felt, powerful and desirable.

Why that surprised him, Bucky wasn’t sure. Of course he was sexually attracted to Tony, he had been since the first time he’d seen the man. He wasn’t different, just because Bucky had personally been responsible for one orgasm. One (or two. Bucky wasn’t sure the jerk-off session really counted) out of at least two dozen that Bucky had personally seen, not to mention the ones Bucky had nothing to do with at all.

Of course he was going to look the same. It wasn’t like people practiced their O-faces, put on a new one for each lover.

He dropped some tokens in Tony’s bucket.

He carefully picked his way over the keyboard. It wasn’t like anyone knew he was typing one-handed, and even if they guessed, or cared, they’d think he was just tugging himself off anyway, but Bucky didn’t like to make typos if he could avoid it. _Aren’t you lovely? Clean up on aisle T_

It was a few more seconds before Tony regained his breath enough to look at the chat, and then he smiled, something wide and happy. “My clean-up guy isn’t here right now,” Tony said, looking directly into the camera. “So I’ll just have to do it myself.” He licked off the come that had fallen onto the back of his hand, sucking on his fingers like he could suck himself off that way.

When he finished, there was still a wide stain up the front of his babydoll, making him look somehow even more obscene. “Okay, that was the gimme round,” Tony was saying. “Everyone think sexy thoughts, and let’s see if I can get it up again, here.” He was petting at the inside of his thigh, not quite touching himself yet, probably waiting for the sensitivity to scale back a little.

There were the usual round of suggestions; things Tony could think of that would get him hard, things other people wanted to do with him, to him, for him. One particularly vivid commenter wanted to _take you over my knee until you’re crying for your mommy, you naughty boy_.

Xbones: _I’d make him cry, believe it._

 _Ug_. Not that he didn’t appreciate the mental picture of bending Tony over but Xbones had a way of making even the most playful or kinky suggestions sound… gross, somehow.

“Mm,” Tony approved. “Forget crying for mommy; I’d be crying for you to fill me up.” He squirmed in his seat as if just thinking about it was making his ass burn, and his cock started to swell again. “I can just see that. My ass so red you can hardly tell the difference between me and my pretty pretty panties, here, and you slamming home in me? It would make it sting and burn in all the best ways, too, oh...” He was stroking himself again, slowly.

WinterSoldier: _Dear god, are you trying to kill me?_

Bucky shoved his hand down the front of his sweats, moved his hand in time with Tony’s, trying to imagine/remember what Tony’s hand had felt like on him, oh, oh, right, just like that, that little twist thing, that was… just right. Sent a little electric zing down his dick and straight into his balls.

Tony laughed, low and wicked. “Just want to keep you coming back, Soldier-boy.” His hand sped up a little, his other hand reaching down to fondle his balls, sliding up to toy with his nipples. Slid up a little further to grab at his hair and tug at it. “Oh, god, that’s good...”

Bucky ignored the chat window with its steady stream of profanity, suggestions, lewd remarks, offers and commentary. His eyes were firm fixed on Tony’s lithe body, the way he moved, every little sound he made. Bucky ached for him, wanted to feel the heat of Tony’s skin, wanted to taste that skin. He fumbled for the squirt bottle of hand cream he kept on the end table to get a little less chafing going on. The cool shock of it wore off quick enough, and then he was stroking harder, no longer keeping time with Tony but chasing his own release.

WearableBoyfriend: _$50 if you say my name when you come. It’s Eddie._

Bucky’s hand came to a sudden stop. _Jesus_. He swallowed around an unexpected lump in his throat.

Tony’s hand stuttered a little, and he glanced up toward the side of the camera, checking -- what? His tip jar for the night? The userlist? The time left to go? Then he resumed his rhythm, smooth and easy, maybe a little faster than before. “You’re on, Boyfriend.”

Bucky took a deep, hitching breath. _Well, at least the guy’s name isn’t Steve,_ he thought wildly. _Or Alex._ He was pretty sure he could not deal with hearing his ex’s name come out of Tony’s pretty mouth, especially not… then. He thought about logging off. Or just muting the sound, Tony would never know if he did that.

 _It’s a test_ , Bucky thought. Not deliberately, but-- maybe it was good to know. This was Tony’s job, this was part of the package, and if Bucky couldn’t handle it, he needed to know where to draw his lines. And where was that line, anyway?

He couldn’t see cutting himself off from Tony entirely; if Tony still wanted to date, or even just hang out, Bucky wasn’t going to give that up. Not just yet.

But maybe… possibly. Bucky needed to not be a viewer. To keep Tony’s life as Bucky’s friend-slash-possible romantic interest separate from Tony the camboi.

Bucky didn’t touch the disconnect button. His finger hovered over the tip jar. Would he have tipped that suggestion, before he’d had Tony spread out on his damn sofa like an offering? No, he decided, he probably wouldn’t have. He considered it for another few strokes of Tony’s hand.

WinterSoldier: … _$10 says I get there before you do._

There, that was good. A little of their normal, teasing banter. Remind Tony that Bucky was here, and reassure him -- if Tony needed it -- that Bucky wasn’t pissed. Or whatever. Bucky didn’t know if Tony would even worry about that. Although he’d seemed a little falling over himself apologizing when he thought Bucky might have been mad, so… yeah, Bucky would go with that. _I’m here, I see you, I’m okay._

Tony laughed a little at that, though he was gasping for each breath by then, and Bucky thought he might have looked a little... relieved? “You sure about that, Soldier? I’m awfully close...”

Actually, Bucky wasn’t sure, but he didn’t answer either. Tony would know what it meant. He hoped. Bucky shoved his pants down a little and got to work. This was his stress relief, his way to unwind, and he was god- _damned_ if he was going to let his insecurities and weird emotional hang ups get in the way.

He didn’t even have to imagine Tony, although he did try to pull up the way Tony’s head had felt under Bucky’s palm. Tried to keep his eyes open, to watch Tony stroke himself--

_Oh, oh, there, just--_

Bucky’s whole body heated up, sweat gathered on his temples, at the back of his neck. _Tony, Tony, Tony._

“Oh, oh, oh oh god oh _Eddie--!_ ” Tony practically arched out of his chair as he came, then collapsed back into it, panting. He glanced out of the screen. “How you doing there, Soldier? You come for me yet?”

Bucky grimaced and wiped his hand off on his tee. One of these days, he was going to need to get more comfortable with the voice-to-text software. God himself didn’t want to think about the state of Bucky’s keyboard, sometimes. Gross.

WinterSoldier: _For you? Always._

“That’s what I like to hear,” Tony said, though the sultry tone was a little marred by the way he was still breathing hard. “Whew. Guys, I don’t know if I can make it a third time before the clock runs out on us. I’m not sixteen anymore.” He grinned and winked. “What do you think, should we try it?”

Bucky didn’t join the choruses of yeses or noes. He dumped the rest of his allotment into the tip jar, wiped his hand off a little more thoroughly, and just watched, almost drowsing. If it was a test, he passed. He was going to… be okay with this. Whatever _this_ turned out to be. There would be moments, he thought. He was only human. But he was going to be okay.

For the first time in a long while, he actually believed that.


	7. Chapter 7

The back of their ride might have been crowded, if Steve wasn’t half the size of a normal adult. As it was, the smell of car freshener, and their driver’s aggressively pushing a bowl of chocolates at them were nearly enough to make Bucky want to crawl out of his own skin. If it hadn’t been raining -- not even a real, refreshing sort of rain, but that annoying drizzling shit that meant the windshield wipers weren’t going fast enough, or too fast, but never just right -- Bucky might have just given up on the ride and tried walking.

He was good at walking. He’d even been pretty good at running, back in the Army. He checked his phone again. Five miles from Brooklyn to East Village. Honestly, he could get there faster, walking.

“Art show,” Bucky grumbled, staring out the window at the smear of headlights. “Why in the hell did we decide we were going to an _art show_?”

A _snobby_ art show, even. One where Bucky had to put on a tie and wear a pressed shirt. If Steve hadn’t been able to get a discount pass, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d have been able to afford it, honestly. But Steve had a few pieces on the wall. He and Nat were free; and one of his fellow artists didn’t want to bring a date, so Steve had bought the ticket off that guy for Bucky.

“Hey, what a person knows about art is a _great_ judge of character,” Steve protested.

Nat hummed in that way she did when she didn’t agree but didn’t want to get Steve riled up. “Whether a person will pretend to be interested in art they don’t care about, that is also an excellent judge of character.”

Steve was diverted from being offended to ask, “Is it better if they do or don’t pretend?”

Nat grinned at him. “It depends on whose art it is.”

Bucky wondered if his own character was lacking. It wasn’t that he didn’t like art -- or some art, at least. And he knew enough just from hanging around Steve to bullshit his way through a conversation. But mostly what he cared about, with art, was, did he want to look at it every day (in which case, it went on the wall) or was seeing it once fine. Which didn’t necessarily mean that he only saw it once. He’d spent half his teenage years in various galleries while Steve tried to learn by copying the various pieces.

“Well, if he says he don’t like Stevie’s art,” Bucky said, “then I should probably drop him.” He twitched as Nat snaked her hand out and snagged more candies from the driver’s dish. The stealthy movement always got to him, just enough that he wanted to make sure he hadn’t seen a sniper or an explosive device. One of these days, he was going to either straight up die of a heart attack, or he was going to learn to fucking relax. Not tonight, however.

“You definitely should,” Steve said. “‘Cause if he actually _says_ that, it’s kinda a dick move.”

“Yes,” Nat said. “Especially since your name is right there on the wall. He should know he is supposed to be sucking up to us.”

“That might say even more things about his character,” Bucky suggested. “That he’s brave enough to have an opinion about Steve’s art.”

Steve was actually fairly talented, Bucky had always thought, and the few times critics had commented on his work, they generally agreed, although not everyone was happy with his subject matter. Steve, in his art, was just like Steve in real life. Aggressively fighting the guy with the power. Steve was a political artist. That didn’t always win him fans.

Nat waved a hand dismissively, then reached for more of the driver’s candy. “He can have an opinion about Steve’s art later. For the first meeting, he should suck up.”

The worst part was, Bucky wasn’t sure that his friends _would_ like Tony. Tony was sarcastic, sometimes bitingly so. And opinionated. Smart as a whip, and prone to showing off, which often got Steve’s back up. “We’ll see, I guess,” Bucky said. He checked his phone again, watching the little Uber marker slowly puttering down the road. Estimated time of arrival, another ten minutes. Glanced out the window, watched the rain drizzling down the window, turning the streetlamps and shop neon into a glitter across the glass. “Just, you know, try not to scare him off. Things are goin’ well.”

That much was true, and Bucky smiled at it, thinking. He and Tony had gone on six dates, and two of them had even ended without the sex being a part of it. Not that Bucky wasn’t enjoying that part, too. God, how long had it been since he was comfortable with anyone touching him, and how long since someone had even wanted to? But it was nice to know, even just for his own personal peace of mind, that sex wasn’t _all_ it was.

“It’s not like anyone is scared of me,” Steve said. “Nat, on the other hand, is pretty damn scary, and your boyfriend will be a smart man to be leery of her.”

Nat smiled toothily. “I promise to leave the important parts intact.” She waggled her eyebrows at Bucky, just in case he hadn’t already figured out which important parts she was talking about.

Finally, finally, they were at the venue and Bucky couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. He took several deep breaths of not-fake-vanilla flavored air, letting the rain hit his face. Rain was nice. Coat check, and Nat slid out of her knee-length raincoat, showing off an excessively slinky red dress that glittered and caught the light as she moved.

Bucky tapped his phone, sending Tony a quick text. _Im here_

He scanned the crowd -- what he could see of it. The studio was large, but there were dozens of “walls” scattered around to hang art on that turned the place into a maze of cozy spaces. It would be easy to miss someone.

The man who came around the far wall, Bucky almost didn’t recognize. He was polished and groomed and wearing a suit that was cut to fit him like a glove, charcoal gray jacket and slacks with a black shirt and a dark, blood-red tie. He didn’t look like a camboi. He almost didn’t even look like _Tony_ , until his eyes landed on Bucky and his face lit up in that familiar smile. He twisted through the milling people, hand outstretched, and when he caught Bucky’s hand, he pulled Bucky in and kissed his cheek fondly. “You look delicious,” he said low in Bucky’s ear. “And already frazzled. You okay?”

“Eh, you know,” Bucky said, taking in the room and all the damn corners with a quick glance. Even though Tony probably _didn’t_ know. “Uber driver.” That was about as much as he could bring himself to admit. “I get nervous when someone else is driving.” Which was pretty much all the time. Until Bucky could re-learn how to drive without his arm -- not to mention driving in the city was probably not the best plan, anyway. But he couldn’t just stay in Brooklyn all the time, either.

Tony knew -- a little, as much as Bucky could bring himself to talk about -- his various hangups and anxiety. “Anyway, these are my friends,” he said, taking attention off himself. “Steve Rogers and his girlfriend, Natalie Romanov. This is Tony.”

Tony offered his hand to Nat first, and then to Steve, murmuring something generic about how much he’d heard about them from Bucky (which was probably true) and how much he’d looked forward to meeting them (which was probably not). He hadn’t even released Steve’s hand yet when he turned toward the show and said, “I understand you’ve got a few pieces of your own up here, right?”

Bucky took the opportunity, while Steve was both trying to show off and trying not to be a showoff at the same time -- a set of verbal acrobatics that was amusing in and of itself -- to check out Tony. That suit was… something else. Honestly, Tony looked like… model or movie star. Someone who ought to be on a red carpet with an amazingly stacked blond on one arm, or something. How the hell had _Bucky_ managed to get his attention?

Bucky with his cheap shoes and his jacket sleeve neatly pinned up? And then Tony turned, saying something about an impressive piece, Bucky wasn’t even sure what, because he’d known, he knew that Tony had a tight, perfectly shaped ass. Bucky’d seen it, touched it… and yet, encased like that in those slacks (not slack at all!) it was like its own work of art. Jesus. Bucky almost walked right into the wall, following Tony toward--

Nat’s hands landed on Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him to a gentle stop before he hit the wall. “See something you like?” she teased.

Tony was standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve (well, shoulder to elbow, really, because Steve was tiny) and gesticulating at an enormous abstract piece that looked to Bucky like someone had thrown a temper tantrum and flung around several cans’ worth of paint. Tony pointed toward the top of the canvas, and then moved his arm, following a particularly bright line of white paint where it slashed across the rest.

“He’s… I dunno,” Bucky said, not taking his eyes off Tony as he gesticulated, expanding on whatever theory of modern art he was going off on, something that had Steve’s attention at any rate, “vibrant, really. He just, has that effect on me. On the room. Everything’s just a little brighter, when he’s around.” Bucky flushed, wondering if Tony’d heard that. Or if Bucky _wanted_ him to hear it.  

Nat squeezed his arm. “I like the way you look when you look at him,” she said. “I hope he’s good for you.”

“I like him,” Bucky said, decisively. _I could fall in love._

Steve was dissecting the piece, talking about motion throughout the use of color and light, demonstrating by drawing Tony back a step, and then forward again. Whatever Steve was seeing in that, Bucky didn’t know. Bucky preferred art where he could at least tell what it was supposed to be, even if it was a collection of lines that vaguely _suggested_ a woman.

A few circling waiters were carrying tiny snacks and glasses of champagne, and Bucky was once again faced with the question of, did he want to eat or did he want to drink, since he could usually only manage one or the other. Drink first, he decided, by virtue of that waiter coming closer, faster.

“Hey,” Bucky said, snagging the glass, “Tony, you want--”

The waiter wandered off, doing his thing. Figured. Bucky took a sip and made a faint grimace at the dry, burned toast flavor. Expensive champagne didn’t necessarily make it palatable.

Tony finished listening to Steve’s recitation, then turned back to slip an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Sorry to neglect you,” he said. He gave Bucky a sweet, slightly bashful smile. “Your friend has some really fascinating insight.”

“Yeah, couple years at art school will do that to ya,” Bucky commented. “I could probably wax poetical about the workings of the M24 SWS, but there are fewer people who want to listen to that.” He drained the rest of his glass, faster than he wanted, but there was a tray of little potato bacon puff things going around, and Bucky’d been too nervous to eat before they arrived. “Did I tell you that you look amazing? Because, you really do.”

They moved down the row; Steve dismissed an entire wall of pastoral landscapes as being “sophomoric.”  

“Anthony?” A tall woman with an elaborate twist of hair and an off white gown asked, stepping in front of them. “I didn’t know to expect you tonight, darling.”

Tony’s eyes got very wide for a fraction of a second before he turned to face the woman, all charm. It was a little like watching him put on that false flirtation of his camboi routine, but tailored to a completely different audience. “Mrs. Danvers!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d be here! You’re just as beautiful as ever.” He took her hand and then leaned in to let her air-kiss his cheek. “I didn’t know myself that I was coming until just a day or so ago.” He hesitated. “Maria’s not here, is she?”

“No, I’m quite despondent, too. She’s providing support for Carrington’s charity event,” she said. “You know the general doesn’t like art, and Carol couldn’t find an excuse fast enough. If I might have the use of your arm a moment, darling, there’s a post-modern artist here, I think your father might like his work, he was saying something about getting some new work for the entryway.”

Bucky blinked. Art -- real art, not prints or replicas -- was expensive. Like, really expensive. Bucky’d been to a lot of art shows, usually dragged by Steve, and most of the pieces went for more than a good, used car. He glanced at the woman again, Mrs. Danvers, apparently. He wasn’t a good judge of clothes or jewelry, but she was wearing a well-tailored gown, and the pearl strands around her neck looked real.

Tony laughed, and it sounded hollow, and his shoulders had gone oddly stiff. “Come on, Mrs. D., you know Dad doesn’t care about art. He’ll buy whatever Mom decides they need. Anyway, I’m here with some friends, and I shouldn’t neglect them.”

“Are you?” Mrs. Danvers appeared to notice Bucky for the first time, her eyes flitting from his too-long hair to his cheap suit pants, as if finding him lacking. Bucky was used to people staring at him, but usually not because he didn’t meet some imaginary stock portfolio image. “I’ll let you go, then. Give your mother my love, darling.” She brushed her cheek against Tony’s again, leaving behind a faint scent of her perfume.

Bucky chewed his lip, not sure whether or not to be offended that Tony hadn’t introduced them, or relieved that he hadn’t.

Tony pressed his hand over his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and visibly gathered himself before turning back to Bucky and the others. “Sorry. Can we just... pretend that didn’t happen? My mom is... She likes to think of herself as a ‘patron of the arts’” -- Bucky could hear the quotation marks -- “and she’s been taking me with her to shows since I was out of diapers, practically, so all these... socialite matrons think they practically raised me, or something.”

Steve was staring, open mouthed, as the woman walked away. “That was _General Danvers’ wife_ ,” he hissed. “Do you have any idea how much she spends on artists every year? Why-- why didn’t you introduce us?”

Tony’s lips pressed together briefly. “Because you have opinions about art, and she does not want to hear anyone else’s opinions. She wants someone who will agree with _her_ opinions.”

“That’s… not untrue, Steve,” Bucky pointed out, cautiously. He’d watched his aggressive friend talk a potential buyer out of buying a painting before. “She’s still here, your paintings are still on the wall. It could happen.”

Steve glared at both of them for a while, before storming off in the direction of-- well, Bucky wasn’t quite sure. Maybe his paintings, or maybe the champagne. Nat rolled her eyes at Bucky, but followed him.

“Good spot, there,” Bucky murmured, under his breath to Tony. “I didn’t know you cared about art.”

Tony looked around quickly, then shrugged. “I don’t, really. But I’ve been at enough showings to be able to bullshit it pretty reasonably.”

“I hear that,” Bucky said. He’d been to a ton of art shows and gallery openings and museums. Because that’s what you did. You supported your friends and their interests. He’d gone to the ballet with Nat a few times, and one time when Steve had sold a particularly expensive painting, Steve had gotten them tickets to a champion boxing match, and sat with Bucky while they watched two men beat the tar out of each other.

“Look, when she works her way around to Steve’s stuff, we’ll keep an eye on her, and if she seems to like it, I can introduce him then. There’s cachet in knowing an up-and-coming artist. If she doesn’t like it, then he can just remain anonymous.” Tony hesitated. “I did look up his catalogue before the show. His work may be too... political for her.”

“You did _homework_? Before a meet-the-friends-date?” Bucky almost choked, stifling laughter. “I can’t decide if you’re like, the _best ever_ , or a _total_ dork.”

Were Tony’s cheeks darkening with a flush? It was hard to tell in the odd lighting of the gallery, designed to showcase the art and not the people admiring it. “I want your friends to like me,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Besides, you know me. I always overanalyze everything.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go with total dork,” Bucky said, softening that with a smile, and touching Tony’s back, lightly pushing in the same direction as Steve had gone. They could go admire Steve’s work for a while. Tony looked up at him with that soft, wide-eyed expression, the one that always made Bucky want to wrap him up. “Character assessment at an art gallery, a performative piece.”

Tony laughed and leaned into Bucky’s side, a little. They hadn’t gone more than a few steps when Nat re-appeared from behind a random wall and linked her arm through Tony’s. “Are we almost done here?” she asked. “I’m starving. And then I want to play laser tag.”

Bucky wondered when he and Tony might develop that weird couples telepathy. “Wanna?”

Tony looked somewhat taken aback, but he nodded readily. “I could murder a cheeseburger.”

***

Bucky hadn’t objected to laser tag, so Tony didn’t ask whether Bucky’s lack of an arm would prove to be an obstacle. Bucky was taking just a big a chance on Tony, after all. Tony still hadn’t told Bucky who he was, exactly, though Bucky had probably figured out that Tony’s parents were fairly well-to-do. So Bucky had no way of knowing that Tony’s father had put a gun in his hand for the first time when he was four years old.

Tony wasn’t exactly a marksman -- simple weapons didn’t interest him enough to drive him to practice -- but he thought he’d make a pretty decent showing, especially against the frail-looking, asthmatic Steve and Nat, whose evening gown and heels (or bare feet, if she shed the shoes) would be bigger handicaps than Tony’s suit slacks and dress shoes.

Tony left his suit jacket in the arcade’s locker room and strapped on the tag vest as he half-listened to the teenaged worker explain the guns and the rules of the play area. The play area was lit only with distracting strobes and blacklights, which meant Tony’s dark clothes would serve him well.

Bucky turned his fake gun in his hand a few times, then pulled the sensor-vest on. “Buckle me up, bitch,” he told Nat, grinning at her.

“I don’t know why we do this,” Steve said. He was squinting down the barrel of his own gun, closing one eye, then the other and holding his gun like they did in bad movies. Sideways. “It’s no fun when Bucky’s on the other team.”

“I can beat you at laser tag with one hand tied behind my back,” Bucky said, deadpan.

Tony nearly choked on his own spit. He gave Bucky an exasperated look, and rolled his eyes when Bucky just grinned at him. “Whatever,” Tony said. “Come on, let’s do this.”

The arena was covered with foam obstacles to hide behind and a dotted line on the floor to indicate whose territory was whose. Bucky led them over to the charging station; once you “died” a point was scored and you had to recharge to be able to shoot again. A quick scan of the room, and Bucky was indicating some of the obstacles. “Good cover there. Steve’s lousy with line of sight issues, you might be able to pick him off.” He stuffed the toy gun inside his belt as a makeshift holster. He offered Tony his fist to bump.

Tony bumped it, then went back to scanning the arena. “Are we actually strategizing, or just running into this full-tilt?” The countdown timer was ticking on the wall.

“You’re an unknown element. You think you can pull them toward a kill spot?” Bucky jerked his chin at a low platform. “Lure ‘em in front of that center-left tree, I’ll bring ‘em down.” Bucky took about four running steps, rolled behind a foam bush, and then he freaking _disappeared_ , which should not have been possible in blacklight while he was wearing a damn white shirt.

Tony spent a couple of seconds gawking, until the timer buzzed and the lights started strobing, startling him back into action. “Right.” He jumped for the nearest obstacle, carefully protecting the sensor on his vest as he peered around it, looking for Nat and Steve.

They weren’t immediately apparent, so he dashed for the next bit of cover, angling toward the tree Bucky had pointed out. A flash of movement caught his eye and he shot at it, only to realize he’d been fooled by the waving fronds of a day-glo tree on the opposite team’s turf.

There! Steve was creeping forward, eyes sweeping their territory. He was tiny, and he moved hunched over, protecting the sensor in the middle of his vest. His dishwater hair was almost green under the light, good to know. He didn’t seem to notice Tony, angling toward the back corner. He took a step, another. Tony had a great angle on him, he just needed to come a little… closer…

Tony held his breath, even though the room was already filled with noise. Steve took another cautious step, then straightened a little to peer over a wall. Tony stood up and took aim--

Tony’s vest lit up, buzzing wildly. “What the fuck--” Over the noise, he heard Nat crowing in delight. “Damn it.”

A moment later and Nat’s vest lit up as well, the sparkles on her dress reflecting orange and yellow light in all directions, displaying her hiding spot in a bunch of plastic houseplants. Less than two seconds after _that_ , Bucky dropped from one of the taller platforms and shot Steve on the way down.

“Two to one,” Bucky said. “Go, I got your back.” He flattened against one of the columns, gun tucked neatly against his chest.

Tony forbore mentioning that he couldn’t actually get shot again on his way back to the recharging station, just jogged back that way, shaking his head. Damn, he’d known Bucky had served with a specialty unit, but that had been _something_.

He came back out of the charging unit a few seconds later to find Bucky trading fruitless shots with Nat as they took turns popping up out of their hiding spots, firing, and then dropping back down. Tony looked around and saw a ladder leading up to one of the platforms, and went up as fast as he could manage, the gun heavy and awkward in his hand.

The vantage point was good, though. He got a glimpse of pale hair as it darted out from one spot to the next. Tony surveyed the area, as best he could in the flashing lights. If he were going to try to get the drop on Bucky, he’d need to be... There. Tony took aim and waited.

Steve moved even closer, and then he was bobbing his head in time with Nat’s attempts, obviously counting. He raised up to take the shot--

Tony squeezed the trigger, and Steve’s vest lit up like a carnival. Tony grinned, but managed to keep his whoop of triumph to himself. It wouldn’t do to give away his position.

Bucky took advantage of Tony’s shot and Steve’s swearing, changed his position, and caught Nat from offside. Which left him wide open for Steve to shoot Bucky on his way back from the charging station. “Avenge me,” Bucky yelled as he made his way to the back of the room.

The game went on like that, close, tight race. At one point, Tony was creeping closer -- he’d spotted the hem of Nat’s evening gown, glittering like fireworks -- with Bucky shadowing him for protection, when they were both downed. Nat had actually taken off the damn dress and used it to lure them both into a trap, running the rest of the game in a black silk slip and bare feet.

Bucky and Nat were both relentless, out for blood, fighting for each point like it was an actual battle. Even Steve was better than Tony would have thought. The scoreboard ticked its way steadily toward their allotted twenty kills. “Tony, _down_! Four o’clock,” Bucky yelled, and he swung down from his vantage point, gun tucked under his chin. He traded shots with Nat and both vests lit up at the same time.

Tony had dropped at Bucky’s shout, but only belatedly turned to his four to witness the shootout. He couldn’t help his laughter, and it took him a moment to regain his composure before he went in search of Steve again while Bucky and Nat were recharging.

He found Steve lurking, but the guy was curled up, blocking the vest. He couldn’t shoot, or move, without giving Tony the clean kill for the game point. A moment later, Nat was crossing the open space between the charger and Steve’s position, and Bucky coming from the opposite direction.

Steve twitched; he _might_ be able to bring Bucky down before Tony could get him.

Bucky made a sound, like a fucking bird call from the movies, and before Tony knew what was happening, Bucky went to his knees, throwing his -- throwing his damn pistol to Nat, who had already winged hers to Bucky.

Bucky was right in front of Tony when he caught the gun, whirled, and aimed directly at Tony’s chest, blue eyes fluorescent, almost demonic, in the blacklight. He fired at the same time Nat turned on her own teammate and Steve’s vest lit up.

“Tie game,” Bucky said, cooly, as Tony’s vest buzzed.

Tony gaped at Bucky. He turned to look over at Nat and Steve, and then looked back at Bucky. “What the hell just happened?”

The room’s lights went up. “They cheat,” Steve said, disgusted, peeling out of his still-blinking vest. “They’re bloody, double-teaming, dirty _cheats_.”

“Well, I’m alive, and you are dead,” Bucky said. He and Nat exchanged a series of secret-handshake moves. “Hand it over.” Bucky jerked his chin at Tony. “The tie. Your tie. I win, I’m takin’ a trophy.”

Tony stared at him, fighting to suppress the sudden hysterical giggle rising in his chest. “You want me to reward you for cheating,” he said, trying for stern.

Steve was already taking off his own tie, handing it over to Nat with a sigh. “They’re cheaters. They always win, just give up now.” Nat draped the tie around her neck, hung her dress over one arm, and stepped back into her shoes.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said. He came in closer, mouth twitching, eyes bright and triumphant. “Hand it over, dead man.”

Tony leaned in, tipping his jaw up pugnaciously. “Take it off me, then.”

Bucky tucked his pistol into the back of his slacks, took hold of the tail end of Tony’s tie and hauled him in. He shifted his grip to the knot, loosening it. Slanted his head to one side and used his grasp to yank Tony in for a kiss. Hot, possessive, like Bucky had something to prove, he claimed Tony’s mouth, fingers busy on the tie while he coaxed Tony into opening up for him.

Tony resisted for a moment but then surrendered to the kiss, reveled in the taste of Bucky’s mouth and tongue, threading his fingers up into Bucky’s hair. He didn’t let it get _quite_ as dirty as he’d have liked, not with Bucky’s friends standing right there, but he held Bucky to him for several seconds after Bucky started to pull away, staking his own claim.

“Get a room, you two,” Steve razzed.

Bucky slid the loosened tie over Tony’s head, messing up Tony’s hair.

“No, no, now we get _vodka_ ,” Nat corrected. She took the tie from Bucky and arranged the knot for him, so Bucky was wearing it around his forehead like a hipster John Rambo.


	8. Chapter 8

“So, uh,” Bucky said, when Tony picked up the phone. “I… look, can I impose on you for a bit? You said you live over in Manhattan, and-- you remember when I vanished for a bit, I think I told you I didn’t get all my shit done? Well, apparently I got just enough of my shit done that day, and now I have a job interview. In Manhattan. Which, great, fine, I can… I am going to need someplace to chill out afterward for a while, an’ uh… I was wondering if that’d be something I could do? After my interview, because I’m probably gonna be in a high state of freak out for a while, an’ maybe gettin’ back on public transportation’s not going to be the best idea ever.”

He was gasping for breath by the time he finished, because he kept wanting to explain, and explain more, and more than that. He’d never been to Tony’s place, although Tony had stayed over two nights at Bucky’s, and the one night where they’d all crashed on Steve and Nat’s floor after drinking more vodka than a handful of Moscovites.

“Oh, hey, job interview, that’s great, babe!” Tony said. Bucky could hear him getting up and moving around, the echo of his voice altering subtly as he changed rooms. “You can, uh. I mean, yeah, yes, you can come over. Um. Sure. Of course, that’s... fine? Of course it’s fine, why wouldn’t it be fine. When’s the interview?”

“I'm… uh hopefully should be done by four. I’m in the lobby of their building right now, very last minute sort of thing. Which should be good, right? Because I don't have time to get nervous.” _A for effort, Barnes._ He knew he sounded nervous as fuck. Deep breaths. He could feel his damn heartbeat in his voice.

“Oh! Wow, uh. Yeah, okay. Good luck, you’re going to knock ‘em dead! I will text you the address. Um... So possibly you should be warned that I don’t really have... furniture. I mean. The stuff I use for the show. And a bed. And that’s... more or less it. I’ve been meaning to, uh, get some, it just... hasn’t come up.”

“I understand IKEA would like to help you with that issue. Crowded spaces and all. I mean, yeah. You've seen my place. Most of the stuff there was my dad's. Otherwise I'd probably be eating off the counter.” Bucky'd done that, actually, even with furniture. But barracks living had been a thing. He was used to sparse comforts.

“Just so you’re not expecting anything fancy,” Tony said. “So what’s the interview for? Or is it bad luck to talk about it beforehand?”

“Security. Watching cams. Patrols. I think. We'll see. Wish me luck. Gotta go.”

It ended up being another fifteen minutes before he got called back, and then the HR person kept him waiting in an office for another twenty minutes. Which was damned annoying and probably either some sort of obscure test meant to try his temper or indicative of their disregard.

Some places had a mandate to hire a certain number of veterans, and one with an obvious disability would look good for tax breaks. Bucky was still trying to decide if that was infuriating or kind when the interviewer came in.

Director Fury was a tall, bald man with one eye. So… Bucky had an abrupt change of heart and went into the interview with a more positive outlook.

By the time he got out and was back in the street, however, he was shaking. He checked his text and decided that he could walk to Tony's place, despite it being at practically the other end of the burrough.

_Omw_.

_I’ll order some dinner_ , Tony texted back.

Was it dinner time already? The interview had taken longer than he thought. He memorized the directions and headed out. Bad enough half the people in the city walked and pulled their cell phones at the same time. He didn't need to be one of them.

Eleven blocks.

When he got to Tony's building, he had to check the address again. Holy crap, it was a nice place.

“Visiting 31F, Tony?” Bucky told the doorman, suddenly aware that he had never asked Tony's last name. “I can text him?”

The way the doorman was staring at him, Bucky didn't even bother to wait for the go ahead.

_U can call down?_

The doorman was suspiciously watching Bucky and reaching for the phone at the same time when it rang. The doorman didn’t take his eyes off Bucky as he answered it. He looked Bucky over, carefully, then glanced at the telephone console. Finally, he hung up the phone and reluctantly opened the door with a curt, “Sir.”

Bucky made himself a promise; if he got the job, he was not going to be a dick to people just because he had a small amount of authority.

When the elevator doors opened, Tony was waiting in the hallway. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry about Happy,” he groaned. “He’s a good guy, really, he’s just weirdly overprotective. And sometimes kind of a dick. I should’ve thought to call down and tell him I was expecting someone, I totally spaced.” He reached up on his toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“Yeah, it's cool. I totally look like I'm here to commit _armed_ robbery,” Bucky joked, because sometimes that was all he could do.

“Oh my god, that was _terrible_ ,” Tony complained, leading Bucky down the hall. “You look really good, actually. How’d it go?”

“Um. Good, I think. Really good,” Bucky said. “I have a good feeling about it. Mostly.”

Tony really had not been kidding about the lack of amenities. Except… for a long moment, he was struck by how large the space was. Before he even could cope with how empty it was, he was blinking at large, well lit rooms and one hell of a view. There was a wrap balcony and twenty foot ceilings.

“Wow,” Bucky said. There was a spiral staircase on one end of the living area, obviously to the bedroom loft above. The kind of modern kitchen Bucky could see past the staircase that could have graced a _Home and Gardens_ magazine cover, even though the countertops contained nothing more interesting than a fancy espresso maker and a number of mugs that probably should go into the dishwasher at some point.

Almost no furnishings. There was a single barstool in the kitchen next to the bar-divide. The majority of the dirty coffee cups were in scattered in front of the counter there, probably where Tony sat while drinking his coffee. But the dining area was empty, aside from a few mismatched socks and what looked like an engineering schematic of some sort, on that fancy blue grid paper.

There was one chair in the living room, but it was so covered with clothes and papers and mailers that it probably hadn’t actually been sat in for who knew how long. There were… tread marks on the carpet, like someone had driven a very small tank around the room several times.

“What, did your ex-wife get half of everything or what?” That… that was probably rude, but _really_? He’d never seen anything quite so simultaneously lived in and yet _not_. It brought back the few, tense conversations he’d had with Nat and Steve about what dating a camboi really might mean. That everything Tony was might be a facade of some sort.

Tony winced. “I moved in what, about six months ago now,” he said. “I just couldn’t take living with my parents anymore, and I kind of... left in a huff. So I didn’t exactly want to go knocking on their door to ask if I could have my old bedroom suite, you know? And I bought a bed, and the stuff for my workshop and the studio, and I spend all my time in there anyway, really, so I just never... thought about normal-people furniture, I guess.”

“Normalcy’s overrated,” Bucky decided. “I mean, it’s your place, whatever makes you comfortable. Honestly, come t’ think of it, there’s no reason why I couldn’t just pitch some of the shit my dad left behind. I don’t use most of it, it’s just… always been there. Not sure what I’d do with empty space. What… uh, what do you do in your workshop, if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve already seen the studio.”

Tony practically lit up. “Come on, I’ll show you!” He led the way past the kitchen and through a door with a keypad lock on it into a room that was probably almost the size of Bucky’s whole apartment. One side of it was familiar, though it seemed weird to be looking at it from the side rather than staring out of the camera -- and holy shit, but that camera and monitor setup was even nicer than Bucky had envisioned -- but the other, larger side of the workshop was...

It was like something out of a science fiction movie. The huge, multi-monitor computer workstation was only the least of it. There was a workbench covered with bits and bobs and what looked like pieces of circuit board next to a soldering stand, and a-- was that a welding kit?

Tony flashed Bucky a quick grin and strode toward that side of the room. “Wake up, Daddy’s home!” From the corner, a metal arm unfolded and reached out, its clawed end tipping toward Tony to reveal a camera lens. Perched on the top of it was a paper cone with “DUNCE” written on it in black marker. “Come on, you hunk of junk,” Tony told it, affection lacing every word, “come say hi to our guest.”

“Tony, why is your… uh, robot? Wearing a dunce cap?” Bucky grabbed the first thing he could think of to ask, rather than staring around the place like one of the Doctor’s companions on their first visit inside the TARDIS.

“Because fire extinguishers should not be deployed when there is no fire,” Tony said, and Bucky couldn’t quite tell if he was joking.

The robot rolled on treaded wheels out from its corner, the dunce cap falling off along the way, and made its way over to Bucky, where that... hand-head-thing opened its claws wide to stare at him. It tipped ever so slightly to the side, like a curious animal cocking its head.

“Meet DUM-E,” Tony said, patting the thing’s main strut. “He’s an utter disaster. I’ll probably sell him off for scrap soon.”

“You… uh, you _made_ this? And he responds to what, voice commands? Tony-- wow, Tony, that’s… that’s _incredible_.” It was hard not to respond to the-- Dum-E? Really? Like it was a pet of some sort. Bucky offered the robot his hand, the same way he would have with a cat or dog.

“Eh, he could be better,” Tony said, not quite looking at Bucky. “I’ve got some plans in the making for his sibling.” Tony narrowed his eyes and pointed at DUM-E. “I meant replacement. Especially if you pull that stunt with the fire extinguisher again.”

DUM-E folded up halfway, head-arm drooping, like a chastised dog.

Bucky blinked. “Is he actually _sad_? Or is he just programmed to act like that?” Tony’s robot-thing was taking anthropomorphizing to a whole new level, that was for sure. “Is this-- like _you made that_? Seriously, I’m like, blown away.”

The back of Tony’s neck was red, and it was creeping upward. “It’s possible that when my youthful good looks desert me, I’ll find work in robotics engineering,” he admitted, and it looked like he was trying to suppress a smile. “He’s not even my main project. He’s supposed to be a helper bot. The main project is in genetic code generation.” He tapped on a keyboard and one of the monitors lit up. “Good evening, sir,” said a cultured, if slightly tinny voice from a speaker on the desk.

“I don’t even know what you just said,” Bucky admitted, “but it sounds smart. This is what you do, huh? When you’re not-- looking pretty sexy for the benefit of sad sacks all over the world.” He draped himself across Tony’s shoulder, looking at his workstation.

“Sure,” Tony said. “My dad thinks I’m wasting my time, but I think this is the next big surge. Genetic code is... the layman’s term would probably be AI. Though we’re not quite up to science fiction standards yet. It’s programming that rewrites itself as it learns.” He waved at the monitor. “This is JARVIS. The idea is for him to one day run the whole house, even whole campuses, if his server’s big enough. Sort of a digital butler. JARV, say hi to Bucky.”

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes. I trust you’re well?”

Bucky blinked. “You talked about me to your… robot butler? Seriously, could you get any sexier? I mean… look at this! You’re _incredible_.”

Tony looked directly at him, startled. “This is sexy?” He looked around the space, then back at Bucky. “This is usually where people start backing away slowly.”

“I feel like I fell down a rabbit hole,” Bucky said. “Never did understand why the fuck Alice wanted to go home when she could have Wonderland. Why Dorothy wanted to go back to Kansas. Never made any sense, I’d want to see it and do it all, and go forward. This is like… serious _Back to the Future 2_ shit here.”

Tony was looking at Bucky like he’d just announced the cure for cancer and the solution to world hunger and the way to make come taste like chocolate shakes, all at the same time. “You... Really? You really like it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, because yes, that was obvious, wasn’t it? Even if it was just big dreams, and it didn’t seem that way, it was pretty nifty. “Yeah, baby boy, this is something else.”

“Huh.” Tony stared at him for another minute, then grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him in for a fierce, hot kiss.

Bucky startled, then let himself melt into it, hand going into Tony's hair to tug at the base of his skull. “Positive reinforcement, yeah? You like it when someone sees how smart you are?”

Tony let out a little groan when Bucky pulled on his hair. “I like it--” He chased Bucky’s mouth for another kiss. “I like it when someone isn’t _intimidated_ by how smart I am.” He searched Bucky’s face. “I know it sounds conceited, but I’m really fucking smart,” he said. “It’s such a relief not to have to hide it.”

“Why-- why the _hell_ would someone want you to hide how goddamn beautiful your brain is? That’s… and why the hell would you let them? Aw, Tony… that’s awful. You don’t… you don’t ever have to hide, baby. Not with me, okay?” He kissed Tony again, tasting that perfect mouth. He wanted to lay Tony out on one of those workbenches and show him exactly what Bucky thought of how damn sexy Tony was.

“Excuse me, sir, if you don’t mind? My optics are still on,” the tinny voice out of the speakers said.

Tony sputtered out a laugh. “JARVIS, go to sleep,” he said. “You too, DUM-E.” He wound his arms around Bucky’s neck. “Want to take me upstairs, hot stuff?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky said. “Lead th’ way.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for our smut-averse readers: Pretty much the whole chapter is smut. See you next chapter. ;)

Bucky liked that Tony was smart. Like, he _really_ liked it. Tony couldn’t quite believe it. People who admired Tony’s genius liked it from a distance. They liked the things he could produce. They liked the things he could give them. They didn’t like it when he _acted_ smart, though. They thought he was showing off. That he was trying to prove he was better.

Guys, in particular, didn’t like it when Tony was smarter than them. It always seemed to make them want to prove their own superiority. It was exhausting. Honestly, it might have been part of the appeal of the whole camboi gig -- that he didn’t need to hide his intelligence, because it mostly didn’t come into play anyway.

But Bucky seemed... actually turned on by it. He followed Tony up the stairs to the loft bedroom with the light of excitement in his eyes, reaching out to touch, to caress, at every moment.

The loft, at least, didn’t look as oddly barren as the rest of the apartment. There was a bed and a dresser and a table with a lamp. There were even sheets on the bed, though Tony rarely bothered to make the bed. He kicked some fallen laundry out of the way and pulled Bucky toward it, falling back onto the mattress with a laugh.

“You are th’ most incredible person I have ever met,” Bucky told him, practically crawling over Tony until he was poised over him, balanced on his hand and knees. He shifted a few times, until he was laying across Tony’s chest, cradled between Tony’s thighs, the stump of his arm tucked at his side, before he ground down. “God, you feel good, too.” He captured Tony’s mouth again, a series of urgent, soft kisses, licking at Tony’s lip and drawing back to tease.  

Tony whined and arched up, stropping his body against Bucky’s, grinding, pulling Bucky closer to try to get more of those sweet kisses. “You make me feel good,” he swore. “Want to make you feel good, too.” He pushed his hands into Bucky’s hair, ran them over Bucky’s shoulders and down his back.

“Yeah?” Bucky pushed himself upright. “Help me off with this getup, and I’ll make you feel good.” It wasn’t, Tony knew, that Bucky couldn’t do pretty much everything one handed, but it took him longer, or he had to plan it carefully, and sometimes, especially when they were going at it, it was just faster to get Tony to help out. Even so, it had taken Bucky a while before he was comfortable, even asking, and Tony knew it meant something, that Bucky trusted him, trusted himself to be vulnerable around Tony.

Tony sat up and snagged Bucky’s tie to pull it loose, and the smooth silk under his fingertips brought him up short. “Did you... wear my tie to your interview?”

Bucky flushed, almost as red as the tie he’d claimed as his spoil of war for the laser tag game -- where he’d fucking cheated, no less. “Yeah, I… uh, thought it might help. I dunno, keep me calm. Like, you were there for me, in spirit.”

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Tony tugged it loose and pulled it off over Bucky’s head, then started in to work on the buttons of his shirt. “You are just _ridiculously_ adorable.”

“I ain’t givin’ it back if it works, neither,” Bucky said. He shivered under Tony’s hands, shoved the rest of the way out of his shirt, dumping it on the floor without ceremony. He kissed Tony again, then tugged Tony’s tee up, pulling awkwardly at the back collar until it came off over Tony’s head. “There you are, you beautiful man.”

Tony spread his arms. “Here I am.” He grabbed for Bucky’s belt and started working it open as he leaned in to mouth over Bucky’s chest. “God, I can’t believe how lucky I am, sometimes.”

“You’re _about_ t’ get lucky,” Bucky said, smirking, his hand going up to cup the back of Tony’s neck, holding him right where he was. “And so… am… I.”

Tony laughed and flicked his tongue over Bucky’s nipple. He worked Bucky’s pants open and eased them down, taking full advantage of the action to feel Bucky’s ass and thighs. “Damn right you are.”

Bucky kicked out of his shoes and did a cute little wriggle/shimmy until he could step out of the pants. “A’ight now, I don’t want to be the only naked guy in th’ room.” Despite that, his help was not helpful, rubbing the heel of his hand against Tony’s groin while Tony was desperately attempting to get his zipper down.

Tony batted at Bucky’s hand and they laughed and mock-wrestled as Tony wormed his way out of his pants. Why hadn’t he ever known before how fun, how _playful_ sex could be? But finally, Tony managed to kick them off, along with his underwear, and then flopped back onto the bed, legs spread as he leaned back on his elbows like some kind of terrible porn cover. “Come and get it,” he teased.

“Yeah, you’re gonna get it, all right,” Bucky said. He took Tony’s wanton invitation, though, crawling over him, rubbing skin on skin, and then lay over on his side to touch and caress, to pinch Tony’s nipple into a hard pebble, to run a silk-soft palm over Tony’s cock. “This’ll… uh, work better, I think, if I’m on my back.”

“Yeah?” Tony gamely rolled onto his side to face Bucky, then pushed Bucky over to crawl on top. “You want me to ride you, hot stuff?”

Bucky shivered all over, hips rolling up, pressing himself against Tony’s thighs. “Yeah, I… think we can do that. That’ll… yeah, that’ll work. Tony, god.” Bucky did it again, bouncing Tony almost experimentally. The physics of sex.

Tony ground down against Bucky, then leaned over to dig through the mess on the table by the bed in search of a condom. The lube, at least, was front and center and easy to grab. At last, he found the box of condoms he’d bought after he and Bucky had started dating, and fumbled one out. He tossed his finds onto the bed and then bent down to suck at Bucky’s nipple, pulling it lightly through his teeth.

Bucky groaned, hand going up to grip Tony’s hip. “It’s astonishing,” he said, looking up when Tony leaned back, “that you still have enthusiasm for this. I’d think, two shows a week, an’ being in performance mode would wear you all out.” That little dimple in the corner of his mouth gave him away; Bucky was damn good at playing a straight man, if Tony hadn’t known to watch for that.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why I’d want to let my gorgeous boyfriend fuck me,” Tony said drily. “But maybe I’ll make you do all the prep. You know, because I’m so worn out.” He smirked.

“Hmmm,” Bucky said, considering it. His hand wandered across Tony’s body, tweaking a nipple. Sliding down his belly. “Feelin’ all worn out, sweet thing. Want to just take it easy?” He traced one finger down Tony’s cock, a simple line from head to base. And lower, cupping Tony’s balls, then rolling them gently. “Wanna pour me out a little of that lube? An’ lift up, so I can reach.”

“Mm-hm,” Tony agreed. He squeezed out a generous dollop of the lube onto Bucky’s fingers, then repositioned himself so his ass was in Bucky’s easy reach. “Just going to hang out here and let you work me over,” he teased.

“Don’t fall asleep up there or nothin’,” Bucky remarked, flicking the tip of his finger over the entrance to Tony’s body, just a tiny bit of pressure. Working his finger in a circle, barely brushing the furled surface. The steady, rocking motion of his hand tempted Tony to rock with it, to push into the sensation. “Gonna be a damn fine thing, gettin’ my cock in you. Want you so much, baby.”

“Can’t wait,” Tony said, honestly. He’d been fantasizing about this since he’d first _seen_ Bucky’s cock. “Want you in me. You’re so thick, it’s going to feel so damn good.” He gave into the impulse to push back into Bucky’s touch, urging, begging for more. “Going to make me feel so good,” he groaned. “You treat me so good.”

“Feel like I been waitin’ on this for damn near ever,” Bucky said, breaching with his fingertip. “Like, my whole life, right for this moment. God, you’re tight, so… yeah, just like that, baby.” That finger slid in, slow, and then twisting in and out. Endlessly teasing and pulsing as he fucked into Tony with his finger. Once he was all the way in, palm against Tony’s perineum, he crooked his finger a little, _come here, come here_ beckoning gesture that Tony could practically feel from his toes up. “Yeah, is that right? Mmmm?” He actually reached for Tony with his left arm, the stump straining up, to try to bring Tony closer.

Tony couldn’t help but answer that silent call, bending to catch Bucky’s mouth with his own, thrusting his tongue between Bucky’s lips and curling it to tease against the roof of Bucky’s mouth the way Bucky was teasing at his prostate. “God, yes, perfect,” he gasped. “More, I need--” He kissed Bucky again, nearly frantic.

Bucky was shaking, exertion and need, his throat and chest glistening as he kissed Tony back, just as frantically. Sloppy and wet and involving just a little more biting. His chin scraped against Tony’s cheek, leaving behind a delicious bit of beard burn. His mouth was swollen and pink when Tony pulled back.

“You… oh, Tony, look at you,” Bucky gasped. “Get. Can you get-- condom?” Bucky kept kissing him, kept working him open, kept teasing at that delicate, tender spot inside Tony’s body, which made finding the damn condom some sort of endurance exercise.

Tony nearly fell onto Bucky’s chest, wanting to keep kissing, wanting to find the stupid condom, wanting to push back into that delectable touch all at the same time. Finally, mumbling and cursing under his breath, he managed to fish it out from the rumpled bedsheets. Managed to take his mouth from Bucky’s long enough to sit back and rip open the little packet. Bucky’s cock was thick and proud and a gorgeous dark red between them, needy and perfect. Tony dribbled a little lube into the condom, then squirmed down to take a quick lick of that beautiful cock before he carefully rolled the condom down.

“Mm, finally,” he purred, spreading his knees a little wider and rubbing his ass back against Bucky’s dick. “Hold it steady for me, gorgeous?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Bucky told him, spreading his thighs and bringing up his knees a little to aid Tony’s balance. Bucky’s mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled back as Tony got himself situated. “Oh, god--”

“You got that right,” Tony groaned, sinking down. God, Bucky was so _thick_ , it felt like Tony was being split right in two, but in the best possible way. It ached and then it burned and then Bucky was in him so deep that Tony couldn’t tell where he ended and Bucky began. “Oh, _Christ_ , sweetheart, that’s so _good_.” He pivoted his hips a little, just rolling them in a small circle, testing the sensation and the give.

“You are so damn fine,” Bucky gasped as he worked, canting his hips up to get deeper, so deep, Tony was filled up… “Want two hands to hold you, baby, oh, god, you’re so-- I can’t go slow, honey, I--” The one hand Bucky did have was busy, rubbing at Tony’s dick, fingers closing around it to let Tony fuck his fist. His breath was harsh, a little moan pushing out of his throat on nearly every exhale. Helplessly rutting up into Tony’s body, head rolling back to expose his throat as he moved.

It took them a couple of tries to match up their rhythms, Tony pushing back just as Bucky was lifting up, then driving forward into the tight, slick grip of Bucky’s hand. Tony let out a noise that was probably closer to a whine than a moan, and tucked his head down, nestling up under Bucky’s jaw, trying to bury himself in Bucky’s skin the way Bucky was buried in Tony’s body. Tony couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to, every breath mounting his need higher, every movement a primal cry for release. “Oh god, Bucky, Bucky, honey, I--”

“That’s right, Tony,” Bucky gasped out, “yeah, you say it, you… Christ, I could-- oh, Tony!” Bucky squeezed, just a little. Twisted his hand at the top of the stroke, a dazzle of sensation, and why did Tony always forget that having sex with someone else was so, so much better, sometimes. The feeling of connection he couldn’t get from silicone, the sensation of being real to someone, not just anonymous lines of text in a chat window. Someone real, something real.

“Tony!”

One more wicked twist of Bucky’s hand and Tony cried out, the whole world dissolving into molten pleasure as he came. His whole body tightened, clenched, and Bucky let out a ragged, tearing sound that burst over Tony’s consciousness like fireworks. “Oh god,” Tony gasped. “Oh god, Bucky, that’s... You’re... _God_.”

Bucky let out an exhausted sounding chuckle. “Nope, just me,” he said, patting the outside of Tony’s thigh soothingly. “I like-- I like that. When you say my name. You call ever’one _honey_ , it’s… nice to hear you say it.”

“Yeah?” Tony made a monumental effort to pick up his head to look at Bucky’s face. “Yeah, I guess it is nice.”

Bucky trailed his fingers down Tony’s back and over his ass, letting Tony rest, sweat cooling on his skin. Bucky found the edge of the blanket and tugged it up, getting it about halfway over before letting his eyes slip shut. “Jus’... gonna breathe here, a minute, okay, baby? You’re… nice an’ warm an’ snuggly.”

“Mm,” Tony agreed. He managed to climb off Bucky, slipping off the condom and tossing it into the trashcan, and then plastered himself up against Bucky’s side, molding his body against Bucky’s like a cat. Or possibly an octopus. “Little nap,” he suggested, yawning.


	10. Chapter 10

There were numerous containers of half-eaten Chinese food on the workbenches as Bucky needed a place to sit while he ate, and they’d spent most of their post-nap in Tony’s workshop, while Tony picked at a stubborn bit of coding.

“I don’t reckon I could eat another wonton,” Bucky commented, shoving the chopsticks into a box. “Ug… I shoulda left like an hour ago, at least.”

Tony dropped another debug statement in the code and glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, relishing the glow of warmth he felt when he looked at Bucky’s tousled hair and rumpled shirt. “You going out with Steve tonight or something?”

“Nah, just wanna get home before all the barflies start crawling back out of their bottles,” Bucky said. “Don’t have any, you know, actual plans until Monday.” He said that with a knowing leer, giving Tony a wink. “Might binge-watch _Downton Abbey_ or something. That’s me, big party guy.”   

“Oh.” Tony found himself reluctant to see Bucky go. The workshop seemed more welcoming and friendly with Bucky’s idle puttering. “You could always watch it here?” he offered, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Like, uh-- Stay over?” Bucky hesitated, eyes going wide. “For the weekend?” It wasn’t like Tony hadn’t crashed at Bucky’s place, once or twice. And when they all fell asleep over at Steve and Nat’s. That had happened. It wasn’t… a huge offer, was it?

“Or just the night, if that’s. I mean. It’s up to you.” Tony tried to read Bucky’s emotional state, but it was hard enough at the best of times, and the workshop’s lighting wasn’t really that great, when he wasn’t using the video studio side of it. “If you want.”

“Yeah, that--” Bucky reached out and cupped Tony’s cheek, running his thumb over Tony’s lip. “Yeah, probably just overnight, I didn’t bring a bag or nothin’, but… yeah. I think I’d like wakin’ up next to you.”

“Yeah?” Tony grinned, and let himself lean into that touch. “I think I’d like that, too.”

It didn’t take Tony long to dig out a spare monitor and get it set up so that Bucky could log into his accounts to watch some of his television on a screen larger than his cellphone. Settling into a sort of comfortable silence, Bucky watching his show and occasionally mocking the characters, Tony poking his code and sometimes swearing at the software. “That’s how ya can tell it’s a software problem,” Bucky commented. “If you can only swear at it, it’s software. If you can throw it out a window? Hardware.”

Tony laughed. “I dunno, it breaks down if you’re trying to write software that _runs_ hardware.” He glanced over Bucky’s shoulder at the TV. “Are they still sighing at each other longingly?”

“Ninety percent of television problems would be solved by someone just opening their damn mouths,” Bucky said. “Honestly, th’ number of awkward conversations I’ve had, gettin’ on the same page with someone, like, didn’t script writers ever have any of ‘em?”

Bucky was just pointing out the timing -- just at the right time to see the wrong thing -- when he nearly fell off the stool, his phone buzzing and brightly playing _Own Worst Enemy_. “Jesus,” he muttered, scrambling for the call button. “What have you done now?”

“What, what is it?” Alarmed, Tony turned around to watch as Bucky answered the phone, already getting up to pace.

“N-- Clint… Clint-- I KNOW YOU CAN’T HEAR ME,” Bucky bellowed into the phone. “PUT YOUR DAMN HEARING AID IN! Can you hear me now? Great, baby, that’s good. What’s wrong?” Bucky tucked the phone against his shoulder, looking straight ahead in that manner people did when they were imagaining the person on the other end. “Okay, _really_? No, no, of course I love you. Do I even want to know why you are-- Clint, just climb out of the trash can, okay? Can we just start there?”

Something jagged rolled over in Tony’s chest. Who was this Clint guy? He and Bucky hadn’t even gotten to the L word, not yet, but...

_It’s probably just another friend, like Steve_ , Tony tried to tell himself. _Bucky wouldn’t have lied to me_. He bit his lip and turned back to face his code, and tried not to listen in. Some. A little.

“Okay, great,” Bucky said. “Now I want you to look around and tell me where you are. No, I really don’t care about that, you beautiful disaster. I’m sure he deserved whatever-- where are-- **BED STUY**? Why the fuck are you-- no. That’s not ‘til _next week_.” Bucky huffed a sigh. “Look, no, honey, I’m not even home right now, I’m-- do you still have a key to my place? Okay, that’s good, you haven’t lost it. That’s great. Are you sober enough to walk? Do-- Clint, do not climb back in the dumpster, okay?”

There was a rattle of noises coming out of the phone and Bucky held it away from his ear, wincing.

“Okay, look, it’s gonna take me a while to-- Clint. Clint… yes. Yes, okay, I’m gonna come get you. You just stay right where you are, okay? Yeah, yeah. Heard it before, Hawkeye. My heart’s broken, I swear. Just. Stay there. Not in the dumpster, okay, baby? Just… sit on someone’s steps. I’ll be there as soon as I can get across-- Clint, I am in Manhattan at the moment, it’s gonna take me some time to get to you. Take it easy. Love you, too.”

Bucky hung up the phone, tucked it back into his pocket. Scrubbed at his chin. “Fuck,” he said.

Tony plastered on some kind of smile -- he hoped it looked vaguely sympathetic -- and turned back to face Bucky. “So, that sounded fraught.” _Now would be a good time to mention it if you’re dating someone else,_ he thought. Loudly.

Bucky shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he said. “Clint Barton, human dumpster fire. Sometimes even literally. I was… uh, supposed to meet him at the train station. Next week. But I dunno, sometimes he gets his numbers backward, says 12 when he means 21. I dunno, we’ll get it straight. But he got off th’ train and can’t remember my address. Tony-- he’s uh. He’s from _Iowa._ I gotta go get him or fuck knows, I’ll be bailing his ass out of jail tomorrow.”

Tony waved a hand carelessly, trying -- failing, but trying -- to quash the budding fear and jealousy that was taking root. “No, yeah, I get it. Shit happens. You go rescue your schmoopsy-doo. Text me later?” He winced as it came out of his mouth. Too needy, he was always so fucking _needy_.

Bucky, who was already starting to scrape his things together, stopped and very slowly turned on the spot to look at Tony. “What-- what did you call him?”

_Fuck_. Tony tried on a grin that didn’t fit very well. “Just, you know, clowning around,” he said, and it was only half a lie. Three-quarters at most. “You were just talking so lovey-dovey with him...” He shrugged, because there was no good way to say _I thought he might be your other boyfriend_ without sounding completely unhinged.

“Yeah, well, Clint’s… he’s an emotional disaster. Needs constant reassurance, and even…” Bucky trailed off, head cocking to one side. “Oh.”

“Oh? What, oh?” Tony looked around, half-wild, as if the explanation for Bucky’s thoughtful stare might be found in the shadowy corners, or stuck in DUM-E’s treads.

“Oh,” Bucky said again, softly. “Oh, as in I think this might be the exact right time for an awkward conversation. What’s goin’ on in that beautiful brain, Tony?”

Oh, god, Tony did _not_ deal well with emotional honesty. Particularly not his own. “Lots of things,” he said, trying to make it a joke, even if he was talking too fast, couldn’t stop the way his hands jittered and tapped against his thigh and chest. “Thought you didn’t want to leave your friend alone too long.” He managed not to stumble over the word _friend_ ; he was proud of that.

“I don’t,” Bucky said, “but… somethin’s going on here, an’... Tony, this ain’t me bailin’ on our plans tonight ‘cause I don’t want to be here.”

“No, I know,” Tony said, and he did, actually mostly know that. Bucky had told him before, when being sociable was going to be too much of a strain. If this guy, Clint, hadn’t called, then Bucky and Tony would almost certainly have had a very pleasant evening together.

It didn’t, however, mean that Bucky didn’t want to be with Clint _more_. _You are being stupid_ , Tony snarled at himself, but he wasn’t really listening. “Conflicting desires. Happens all the time. And he’s got the greater need. I get it, really.”

“A’ight,” Bucky said, but his eyebrows did that thing that made his forehead wrinkle up. “If you’re okay. _Are_ you okay, Tony?” He reached out, going to brush his knuckles along Tony’s cheek.

_Awkward conversations_ , Tony thought, a little desperately. God, he didn’t want to be That Guy, but fuck it, it looked like he was going to be whether he wanted to or not. “I, uh. You know, brain like mine, goes a million miles a minute, can’t help trying to put puzzle pieces together, and I know it’s... It’s none of my business, really, but I’ve... never heard you talk about this guy before, so I can’t help but be a little curious, especially when he clearly means a lot to you, which is. Obviously. Right, I mean, obviously that’s--”

“Hey--” Bucky curled his hand around Tony’s jaw, thumbing his chin up. “Yes, Clint means a lot to me. He saved my life. He was right there. When this happened.” Bucky twitched his left shoulder. “My Army buddy. Th’ one you said I should make an effort to see? But it’s not… I mean, you’re… Tony, are you asking me if we’re exclusive?”

Terror warred with hope. Tony had to swallow them both down before he could force any more words through his throat. “Too soon for DTR, right? You-- you don’t have to, I mean, it’s...” He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Bucky’s reaction. “I take my clothes off and stroke it for a dozen or more anonymous guys every week; it would be pretty fucking ridiculous of me to try to lay any claims, right?”

“I don’t have a problem with your job,” Bucky said. “You don’t have to worry about that. But… you don’t have to use it as an excuse, either. Tony, I ain’t so much as looked-- I like _you_. I’m not-- Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not datin’ _Clint Barton_. That’s. I mean if you knew him-- no. But… I’m not really interested in anyone else, either. If that’s… if that’s too much for you, if you’re not interested in that, that’s okay, too. But. You’re it, for me.”

Tony opened his eyes.

Bucky was right there, he was so _close_ , still with that little worried wrinkle in his forehead, gaze focused on Tony, as if there were nothing else in the entire world. “You... you mean that,” Tony said, because there was nothing else Tony could believe, looking at Bucky’s expression.

“I mean it,” Bucky said. “Never gonna let you down, the whole Rick Astley song, and three part harmony and everything. But right now, I gotta go rescue a dumpster fire from a trashcan, before he goes an’ gets himself into more trouble. Okay? You’re-- I mean, we’re okay, right?”

Tony surged forward and caught Bucky’s mouth in a fierce kiss. “We’re, we’re great,” Tony said. “Even if you did just rickroll me.” He gave Bucky a grin, somewhat shaky with relief. “I, um, I have a car. If you want, I could, we could go get your friend? Faster than taking the subway?” He considered it for a second, the traffic between Manhattan and Bed Stuy. “Probably, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Bucky said. “Introduce my other best friend to my… uh, my _boyfriend_. Even if he’s gonna smell like trash. Sorry about that. It’s Clint.”

“We’ll bring some wipes or something,” Tony said. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s, twining their fingers together, and pulled gently, leading them toward the door. “You... You’re still not running and screaming. The neurotic clinginess gets to people, sometimes.”

“I’ll let you know if it starts t’ be a problem,” Bucky promised. “But, like… I don’t think it’ll be an issue. I, uh, kinda like it.”

Tony paused, free hand still outstretched as he reached for his keys, and stared at Bucky. “You _like_ it?” No one liked it. The constant need for reassurance was, at best, wearying. Even Rhodey and Pepper, with too much exposure, took on a slightly exasperated air.

“You drive, I’ll explain,” Bucky said, and that sunshine smile practically lit up the car-garage. “Look, I mean, _don’t_. Look at the road, not at me. But, you know. I’m kinda broken. You know that, right? I came home, an’ it’s taking me forever to get my fuckin’ life together. I thought… what _possible_ use could I be, now? I’d… I’d always be a burden on someone, half-useless, jumpin’ at shadows. No, don’t-- I know. I mean… yeah, okay, I was wallowin’ in it, a bit. Chin up, soldier, big smile, no one wants to feel sorry for you. But… look, you seem to need me, you… I think we’re both a little broken. But our edges, they just… they just fit together, okay? I mean, I don’t know how you see it, but… it works for me, okay?”

Tony swallowed and focused on the road so he wouldn’t start bawling like a child in the middle of the road. When they pulled up at the next red light, though, he twisted in his seat to look at Bucky. “I do need you,” he admitted. “I don’t think I knew how much, until we started dating, but you... You’re right. Our broken edges fit. And it’s... it’s comfortable, and it’s terrifying, but you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“That’s… yeah, comfortable and terrifying. Holy shit,” Bucky said. “So, okay, yeah. Awkward conversation, check. Exclusive boyfriending. That’s… that’s good. I’m… I’m happy about that. Thanks.” He twisted in the seat to put his hand over Tony’s where it rested on the gearshift, reaching across to close the gap.  

Tony smiled up at Bucky, and for a moment, considered leaning in for a kiss, but an angry _blaaaaaaaaaat_ of a horn startled them back into the real world. Grinning sheepishly, Tony dropped the car into gear and resumed driving. “I’m happy, too,” he said softly.

It took them driving around the one block like three times, and then Tony almost ran the guy down, before they found Clint. Completely filthy, wearing purple track pants with a broken waist tie that he was holding up one handed, and dotted with bandages on his nose, cheek and knuckles. “Clint, you disaster,” Bucky told him, ushering him into Tony’s car. “Tony, Clint. Clint, Tony.”

Clint Barton swayed alarmingly in the back seat and for a few, terrible seconds, Tony was pretty sure the guy was going to hurl onto the floorboards. “Meet-- Do I know you?” Those faded blue eyes fixed on Tony’s face with sudden clarity.

Tony froze for a second. “I... don’t know,” he said carefully. “What’s your screenname?”

Clint held up one hand, squinting at Tony’s face. “Hmmm, I… it’ll come to me, don’t worry. I’m terrible with names, but I never for--forget a face. You ever done a… interview in _Guns and Ammo_?”

“Seriously, Clint, no,” Bucky said. “I know it’s the only magazine you read. Just. Sit-- here, help me with the seat buckle, idiot. I only have one hand, you know.”

“No interviews, sorry.” Tony was glad Bucky was helping Clint with the seat belt, because he was pretty sure his poker face slipped a little, there. It had been his dad doing the interview. But Tony’s picture had shown up in a sidebar feature about the up-and-coming heir. It was a little shocking that Clint recognized him from that picture -- it was nearly a decade ago, and Tony had still been in the throes of puberty.

Or maybe Clint hadn’t recognized him, and it was just a coincidence.

That was probably it. Coincidence.

Fuck. Tony really had to tell Bucky who he was, and soon.


	11. Chapter 11

The nicest thing about Skype interviews was being able to skip wearing pants. Bucky had on a button up shirt, Tony’s tie, and his boxers, but the SHIELD people on the other side of the camera didn’t know that. Two interviews and a background check, but Bucky was thinking it was close to a done deal now.

He hadn’t gotten any of the verbal cues that he would have taken as a “we’re just going through the motions” or “we’ve decided to promote from within.”

That said, there was still no reason to struggle into his dress pants; especially since they were still rumpled from being on the floor in Tony’s bedroom.

That thought made Bucky smile again -- _boyfriends!_ \-- and he turned his attention back to Ms. Hill, who was going through the benefits package that they’d be offering.

“So,” Ms. Hill said, spreading her hands, “we’re sure you want to think about things, Mr. Barnes, but we’d very much like to bring you in as our evening floor security. Over the next year, there are several training classes, geared toward a projected promotion to security lieutenant. I’ll let you go now, and if you could get back to us by Friday next, that would be lovely, thanks again for your time.”

The line went dead before Bucky could actually process that he’d gotten a job offer. An actual offer. With benefits and actual salary that might be livable. He’d gotten a few offers, but all from retail or custodial departments, and at a reduced salary based on his capable work efforts (that was some bullshit talk for you’re missing an arm, so we’re just putting you on the payroll as a decoration.)

He glanced at the clock. Ms. Hill had kept him on the phone longer than he’d noticed. He had just enough time to heat himself up some leftovers for dinner, and catch Tony’s show. He’d talk with Tony about it after-- maybe they could plan some sort of celebration.

“That’s hot,” he told himself, poking chopsticks into his leftover chicken low mein, and promptly took a bite anyway. “Ow, ow ow hot.” He tucked the container between the sofa and his thigh, fumbling around for his coke to soothe his burning gums and tongue. “Idiot.”

Chaturbate was really set up well to protect Tony’s privacy and peace of mind. His identity was kept secret, all emails went through a filter. He could open or close comments as he wanted to, ban and kick users if they were horrific. And he was the only one who could open a private conversation, even if any registered user could request one.

To get around that, Bucky just left his last private conversation open. He wasn’t sure if Tony wouldn’t open one, but it was sort of fun to pick at him, just a little.

He’d rickrolled Tony at least once, for the last few shows, just to be completely obnoxious. Doing it once in Romanian, once in Italian (Tony had confessed to being bilingual at dinner one night while fussing about the fake-y Italian on the menu for a new bistro) and once in machine language, which actually got Tony to crack up and have to cover hastily for the other viewers.

Private message from WinterSoldier: _Wearing my boxers and your tie. And nothing else._

Tony was just getting into his routine when he grabbed a robe, turned to look at something making noise off screen--

“What the fuck--”

A crash of machinery. The feed interrupted, Tony’s face froze on Bucky’s monitor. Rage and confusion, but under it… fear.

Bucky’s heart thumped in his chest, anxious.

He grabbed for his phone and pressed the speed-dial. Three rings, and Tony’s phone shunted him to voice mail. “Honey, what happened?”

On his monitor, a couple of the regulars were worried, exchanging panicked or concerned conversation in the chat window.

StrangeAttractions: _Was that his boyfriend?_

Xbones: _Might be? Does he have one?_

HammerTime: _You think I can get a refund?_

StrangeAttractions: _He’s not answering a private message._

Bucky took a few deep breaths, redialed. Voice mail. Texted, but he got no response.

WinterSoldier: _I’m going to go check it out._

Xbones: _You know him?_

StrangeAttractions: _Make sure he’s okay. Let us know if we can help._

Bucky grabbed a pair of sweats and struggled into his shoes. Jesus, it was the worst time of day to take the subway, just after work let out for a lot of places, people getting food, going home, picking their kids up. What choice did Bucky have? He couldn’t fucking walk to midtown.

Texted Tony again. No answer.

_I’m coming over, babe._

***

If Tony had realized what a _brat_ Bucky could be, he’d... not change anything, really, but he still would have appreciated the warning.

Almost soon as they’d actually agreed they were exclusive boyfriends, Tony had told Bucky to stop tipping during his shows. It felt weird, collecting money from his actualfacts boyfriend for doing things that he’d happily have done for or with Bucky in private anyway.

Bucky had agreed, somewhat reluctantly, but he hadn’t stopped logging in to watch the shows. Instead, he opened a private message window with Tony as soon as he logged in, and did his damnedest to try to get Tony to react on-screen -- to laugh or break character or blush. And all the while, he was popping up in the main chat just like always, that sweet encouragement and praise that Tony had found attractive in the first place.

It was _maddening_ , and it was _fantastic_. Tony would call him after each show and complain and Bucky would laugh. And then Tony would threaten punishment, and Bucky would leer at him and say “Promises, promises.”

It was fun. It was _great_.

So of course it had to all come crashing down.

The show had really only just gotten really going; Tony was down to his underwear and teasing little flashes of his ass at the camera. In their private chat, Bucky was describing the lack of clothes he was wearing, just for Tony’s show. Tempting Tony to ask for a picture.

The crash from the front room was startling, but not immediately alarming. Tony had sent DUM-E out there to do some cleaning, so he wouldn’t interrupt the show. Still, he reached for his bathrobe and started pulling it on. “Hang on just a second, guys. Something’s--”

The door to the workshop slammed open with an echoing _bang!_ to reveal -- oh holy mother of fucking _god_ \-- his father, limned in the glow from the hall.

“Oh, _shit_ , what the fuck are you doing here? You--”

Howard stormed into the studio and knocked the camera and monitor to the floor with a furious sweep of his arm.

The monitor flickered and died, its plastic casing shattered. The camera fell into several pieces and Tony hoped it was just the lens separating from the body falling off the mount, but he couldn’t check because Howard had grabbed Tony by the collar of his robe and was shoving him up against the far wall, teeth bared in a snarl of pure rage.

His breath smelled like alcohol. Because of course it did.

Tony’s hand had curled around Howard’s wrist without him even thinking about it. “What the fuck?” Tony demanded again. “You can’t just barge in here and--”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, boy,” Howard growled. He yanked Tony forward and then slammed him back against the wall, hard.

Tony managed not to smack his head into the wall, but it wrenched his neck instead. “How the hell did you even get in here? The doorman should have sent your drunk ass home.”

“Smarter than you, you ungrateful brat. He knows better than to defy me!”

“You don’t own me, Dad. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a goddamned adult.” Tony shoved back at Howard, but the man barely shifted.

Howard snarled. “Enough,” he snapped, raising a hand, and Tony flinched, he goddamn flinched, it didn’t seem to matter how much growing up he’d done, or how successful he was on his own, his father’s raised fist, and Tony was back to being a kid, a kid who could never measure up. It wasn’t even the pain he was scared of, although it hurt, and it always hurt, but it was fucking humiliating, the way he could never seem to keep from backing down. “I’m done with this. This whoring around. Did you know that Hank Pym let slip that he knew what you were up to? I’m pulling the plug on this whole operation.”

“It’s not your _operation_ to pull the plug on,” Tony argued. “I did this all on my own!” Who the fuck cared what Hank Pym knew, anyway? The man was bananas.

“Everything you do, everything you’ve _ever_ accomplished, you built on my name, on my accomplishments. On my money. You think you’re in this fancy apartment because you’re anyone else but _my son_?” Howard snapped his fingers in Tony’s face. “Like that. I can have you out on the street like that.”

That was... uncomfortably close to the truth. Tony had pulled strings and traded on his name as a Stark to get the apartment. And he had no doubt whatsoever that Howard had enough pull to get him kicked back out again. Not that Tony had ever, even once in his life, quit just because he was on the losing side of a thing. “Yeah?” he shot back. “How would that play to your precious press, having your son living on the street?”

Howard pulled himself upright, straightened his tie. “It’s unfortunate that Tony fell in with the wrong crowd, that he’s gone back to using drugs. His mother and I, well, we’re just at our wits end, it’s a tragedy, don’t you think? He had everything, and he’s throwing it away with both hands.” And then he had the fucking nerve to give Tony a smile full of false sympathy, pity, the _I’ll be strong and do what needs to be done_ look.

“You son of a bitch, I haven’t touched anything harder than vodka in over a _year!_ ” He tried to shove at Howard again. “Why can’t you just fucking _leave me alone?_ ”

“Because deep down, boy, that’s not what you need. And you know it.” Howard looked around the studio with distaste, a sneer of disgust for Dum-E. “Pack up, get your ass home, and we can discuss how you can earn your way back into my good graces. Or stay, and see how hard it can get, when you don’t have my name to open doors for you.”

Howard pushed him backward, and Tony stumbled over the broken monitor, falling into the table and knocking an assortment of brightly colored and textured dildos to the floor. It would have been comical, maybe, if it wasn’t so damn tragic. If it wasn’t Tony’s fucking life.

“You think I couldn’t make it on my own?” Tony demanded. “I think you don’t know a fucking thing about me. Why would you? You’ve never cared for anything but your precious reputation!”

“This discussion is over,” Howard said. “And if you think I only care about my reputation, about the family name that I’ve fucking built, you might want to ask yourself what you think you’re going to earn, shitting all over it. Don’t… fucking… push me. Boy.”

With that, Howard swirled out of Tony’s studio, and out of the apartment, like some sort of comic book villain.

Tony waited until he was sure Howard was gone, then gingerly pushed himself upright. He couldn’t quite manage to get up off the floor, though. He folded his knees in to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, putting his head down and trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he sat like that, shivering in his robe, looking at nothing beyond the edges of his bare toes.

“Tony?” A panicked voice came from his living room, followed by “Jesus, _fuck_ , what-- Tony? Tony, baby, are you--” A moment later, scruffy, untied Keds came up to him, and then someone was kneeling near him. “Honey, are you-- are you hurt, baby, you need me to call th’ cops? Ambulance?”

Tony managed to look up, into Bucky’s desperately worried face. He reached up, wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, and pulled himself up against Bucky’s body, tucking his face in against Bucky’s neck. “I’m not... hurt. I just...”

“Hey, hey, baby, I gotcha, I’m here. What th’ hell happened?” Bucky shifted against Tony, pulling his phone out. “Hang on I’m… look, Strange gave me his email, I’m gonna let him know you’re okay, and he’s going to tell everyone on the channel that you’re not hurt, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s... Were they worried?” Tony moved around a little, letting Bucky have space to work his phone. “That’s... sweet, I guess. Yeah, let everyone know I’m all right, but, uh, my gear is all trashed, so no more show today.”

“Of _course_ everyone’s worried,” Bucky said. “On th’ video, it looked like someone broke into your apartment and trashed your stuff.” Bucky gestured with his chin. “Which is what it looked like _actually fucking happened_. And you didn’t answer my calls, honey, forget about everyone else, I was worried as hell.” He finished tapping his phone, his arm going around Tony’s back, pulling him closer. “You’re sure you’re, you know, not in shock or something?”

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. I’m... Sorry I didn’t answer the phone.” Tony jerked his chin toward the other side of the room, in the workshop. “Put it on silent and left it over there so it wouldn’t buzz or something during the show, and then... Yeah.” He curled into the warmth of Bucky’s body, breathing in the slightly sweaty smell. “It. Uh. It was my dad.”

“Your father did this?” Bucky pulled back, horrified, carefully studying Tony’s face. “The hell? _Why_?”

Tony grimaced. “Because I’m tarnishing the family name or some bullshit. He’s... He wants me to go back ho-- _There_. Or he’ll... I dunno, he wasn’t very clear. Cut me off and drag my name through the mud.”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do that, baby,” Bucky said. “No, you can come stay with me for a while, if this ain’t safe, but… baby, this is abusive, you don’t have to-- you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

Tony bit back a sob, choking on it as he forced it down his throat. “No,” he rasped. “I can’t do that to-- If he finds out who you are, he’ll _ruin_ you. He won’t even hesitate.”

Bucky blinked. “Who I am? Honey, I’m not anybody. There’s nothing to ruin. What are you even talking about, how would he find you?”

Tony shook his head, not able to look Bucky in the eye. “He’d get all your VA benefits tied up in red tape, get you blacklisted so you can’t work, he’s got all these contacts in the military, and he...” Tony swallowed. “Fuck. I should’ve told you ages ago, but I... My dad is Howard Stark.”

“I… uh… oh,” Bucky said helplessly. “That’s… uh. Yeah, okay. Stark, like, Stark Industries?”

Tony nodded. “Like, founder, CEO, head of the Board of Directors. CTO, too, though that’s mostly just in name these days.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, slow, almost thoughtful. “Okay, that’s… that’s a hurdle, yeah. Howard Stark’s son, that’s… that’s… that’s a lot to take in.”

_Howard’s son_. Tony closed his eyes again, curling into himself a little tighter. He couldn’t escape it, not ever. He was always going to be _Howard’s son_ before he was anything else, to everyone. He swallowed. “Yeah. That’s... That’s what I am, all right.” He picked up the first thing that came to his grasp -- a garishly bright green vibrating dildo -- and flung it across the room with all the anger and frustration he could summon.

“No, that’s… that’s not _what you are_ ,” Bucky said, fiercely. “It fuckin’ sucks that you got a dickwash of a father, but… baby, you are so much more than that. Honey, honey look at me. Come on back home with me, you don’t need to be here right now, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

Bucky looked so sincere, so worried, so _caring_. Tony had to fight down another lump in his throat. He hugged Bucky tightly. “God, what would I do without you?” he whispered. “I think I love you.”

“You’d get by,” Bucky told him, “because you’re tough, and you’re smart, and more than that, you’re damn clever. _Creative_. So you could do it, without me. If you needed to. But hey, Tony-- here’s the thing. _You don’t have to_.” He drew Tony in closer, hand lightly stroking Tony’s back. He kissed Tony’s hair. “I’m here for you, always. I love you, too, you know that, right?”

Something released inside Tony, and came out as a ragged laugh. “Well, I do now,” he managed. He tipped his head back to kiss Bucky’s jaw. “Okay. Okay, let me get some clothes and stuff and...” He heaved a sigh. He still didn’t know what he was going to do, but at least he wasn’t going to have to do it alone.

“Also,” Bucky said, nuzzling his hair, “I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but, uh. I got the Shield job. They’re not military, no government contracts. They do all sorts of cyber security. And my place is rent controlled. We’ll be okay. You don’t need your dad’s money, I won’t let you starve. Promise.”

Another laugh made its way out of Tony’s chest, a little steadier. “Yeah? That’s great, sweetheart. Congratulations. Really.” He kissed Bucky’s cheek again. “I have some savings. From the cam thing. I had to link up an account for them to drop the money into and I didn’t want to use my regular accounts for that, so I opened a new one. Dad’s not on that one, he can’t freeze it or anything.” He let himself lean into Bucky’s warmth for another couple of breaths, steadying himself, and then pushed up onto his feet. “Actually, give me like... half an hour. There’s some things I don’t want to leave here in case he comes back. Like DUM-E’s master code, and JARVIS.”

“Okay. I can, you know, call the crew, we can take DUM-E with us, if you want.”

Tony looked dubiously at DUM-E, industriously picking up the scattered dildos and putting them on the table, and then back at Bucky. “He’s too awkward to take the subway, and too big and heavy for my car,” he said.

“Nat’s got a pickup truck. I don’t know _why_ she does, but she does. We’ve all borrowed it from time to time,” Bucky said. “It’ll be fine. Lemme call our friends, get everyone over here. What’s your dad gonna do, even if he comes back? Beat up Steve so I can film him pickin’ on an asthmatic artist? Nat’d knock him down the stairs in a heartbeat.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Warmth rushed through Tony, and he found himself able to draw a full breath for what felt like the first time in the last hour or more. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You, uh. You call them, and I’m going to go figure out what needs to go, and what can stay here, and what’s the best way to pack it up.” He hesitated, then leaned in to kiss Bucky again, lingering over Bucky’s mouth even if it was a kiss more for comfort and gratitude than out of the heat of desire. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Bucky cupped his cheek, dropped a kiss on Tony’s forehead. “We’ll be okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

Tony smoothed his hand down his tie to cover his nerves -- he’d borrowed it back from Bucky just for this, and if Director Fury had noticed, then at least it hadn’t been mentioned -- and launched the program. He watched the status codes scroll down the screen and didn’t let himself fidget as he waited for the installation to be complete.

Behind him, Director Fury watched impassively.

Tony was taking a chance, here. Bucky had gotten him this job, and Fury had kept Tony around even though Howard was still taking every opportunity to imply to the press that Tony had turned into some kind of crack whore. Fury _probably_ wouldn’t fire him if this failed -- Tony had made sure to prove his worth before he’d brought up the idea in the first place -- but it would definitely be a big step back.

Finally, the status bar showed that the installation was complete. Tony cleared his throat. “FRIDAY? You there?”

“Wide awake an’ ready ta get ta work, boss!” she reported cheerfully.

Fury’s eyebrow went up, just a little bit. Probably because of the brogue. Tony hadn’t been able to resist giving her a little bit of personality. “Okay, let’s start with something fairly small, right out of the gate,” he suggested. That was Bucky’s doing. Tony had wanted to start with the big, flashy demonstration that would knock Fury’s socks off, but Bucky had talked him into starting with something that would have a higher probability of success. Tony had called him a spoilsport, but... well, the reasoning was sound. “Security analysis on the Fridge.” That was one of Shield’s innermost, highest-security server systems.

Fury’s eyebrow went up a little higher.

“You got it, boss!” A progress bar flashed onto the screen. A full security analysis usually took days to run and weeks to fully analyze, but Tony had been feeding Friday security protocols since he’d first woken her up on the entirely isolated network he used for his personal projects at Bucky’s place.

Still, it took her a solid fifteen minutes to plough through all of the Fridge’s protocols. Maybe it was a good idea Tony had decided to take Bucky’s advice and start small. It had _definitely_ been a good idea to put some extra deodorant on before the demonstration.

Finally, the progress bar reached an end and Friday chirped, “The Fridge environment meets all the security standards and protocols in my databanks, boss.”

Fury snorted. “I don’t need your jumped up Atari to tell me that, Stark.”

“ _But_ ,” Friday continued, impertinently, “I’ve got a few suggestions for improvements. There’re a few enclaves that could use an additional couple layers o’ redundancy, and with my processing, the audit logging could be beefed up significantly without impactin’ your review and analysis time.” The screen flickered as a Report and Recommendations document opened and filled itself in. The printer whirred to life as it began to print.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Tony told her. “We’ll get you something a little meatier to sink your teeth into soon.” He took the printed pages out of the hopper and offered them to Director Fury with a grin. “I told you,” he said. “Genetic algorithms are the next big thing. Get in on the ground floor, and you can charge your customers a premium price for it.” He smirked a little as Fury took the report, and he touched his fingers to his forehead in a lazy salute as he sauntered out of the databank.

He maintained his cool composure until he was sure he was out of sight, then all but sprinted for Bucky’s desk.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky said, looking up from a new floor layout -- he was overseeing security contracts for over a dozen clients now -- with a lazy grin. “How’d our girl do?”

“She kicked so much ass!” Tony said, dancing from foot to foot excitedly. “I’m so proud I could burst! I think Fury was impressed. He actually almost smiled!”

“I told you that you could do it,” Bucky said. “All on your own. Dinner to celebrate?”

“You helped,” Tony said loyally, but he tugged Bucky out of the chair. “And yes! Let’s go! I want a cheeseburger the size of my head!”

“I’m just your cheerleader,” Bucky said. “Burgers, cheese fries, beer. Sounds great. Hang on, lemme close this out, an’ we’ll go celebrate the latest Stark tech to hit the big time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, leaning against the wall to wait. “I wonder how mad Howard will be when he hears about it. He’ll probably try to take the credit, too. Everything _Stark_ belongs to him, after all.”

“Well, you know,” Bucky said, super casually, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t have to stay a _Stark_.”

Tony tipped his head, considering that. “What? You mean, like, changing my name?” He considered it. The paperwork wasn’t especially difficult, though there would probably be a lot of it.

“Somethin’ like that,” Bucky said. “People do it all th’ time.”

“True,” Tony mused. He pondered it some more. “I don’t know, though. What would I even change it _to?_ ”

Bucky made a sarcastic, snorting noise. “How about, oh, I dunno, just off the top of my head...   _Barnes_?”

For just an instant, Tony was confused. Barnes was _Bucky’s_ name; if Tony changed it to match, then it would get confusing-- _Wait_.

Tony stared at Bucky. “Did you just...?”

“I mean, not everyone changes their name,” Bucky went on, like he hadn’t said something life-changing and astounding. “I don’t… eh, I think those hyphenated names are complicated, but if you don’t want to--” He finally looked over at Tony, eyes a little pensive. “Would-- would you do me the honor of letting me make you happy, for the rest of our lives?”

Tony’s eyes were trying to bug out of his face. “Bucky. Oh my god, I.” Tears blurred his vision. “Oh my god, _yes_!” He flung himself at Bucky, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Yeah?” Bucky rubbed his thumb over Tony’s lip. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Coulson will kill us if he finds us necking in the cubicles again.”

Tony grinned, not at all repentantly. “It was after hours!” he protested. “Anyway, I’d think he could let us have one since we just got engaged. Oh my god. _We just got engaged!_ ”

“Yeah, yeah, we did, baby boy,” Bucky said. “Yeah. Holy shit. Oh! God, I’m a dumbass, hang on, hang on…” He started digging around in his desk and pulled out a little box. “I can’t believe I almost forgot to give it to you.” He offered the little box on his palm. “Marry me, Tony.”

The ring was simple, when Tony opened the box with shaking hands, a flat titanium band with a single square ruby in the center.

“Oh,” Tony breathed. “Honey, it’s _perfect_.” He fumbled the ring out of the box and managed not to drop it as he offered it to Bucky. “Put it on me.”

Bucky slid the ring onto Tony’s finger. “Look, it matches your tie.” He kissed Tony’s cheeks, then his mouth, very gently. “Red, for luck.”

Tony admired the way it looked, then tipped his chin up to kiss Bucky again. “And love,” he agreed. “This time, when Nat takes us to laser tag for our bachelor party, you’re not allowed to switch teams on me.”

“No promises,” Bucky said. “Nat’s scarier than you are.” And then he kissed the pout that Tony presented, enough so that they ended up having to leave the office at a fairly good clip, when Coulson did, actually, come to fuss at them about PDA in the building.

***

Bucky settled in on the sofa, bottle of vodka tucked between his thighs. He didn’t have to turn on the computer anymore. Tony had moved most of his studio -- after replacing the broken bits -- into Becca’s old bedroom. These days, Bucky had a live showing, more often than not. Tony kept up the camboi work, mostly for giggles. And because it apparently bothered Tony’s dad that Tony kept doing it, regardless of the threats.

Tony watched the countdown-to-live counter until it reached two, then refocused on the camera and gave it a bright, happy grin. “Hi there, everyone! I see we have some new guys in the chat tonight, which I guess means Howard’s latest rant-and-rave has hit the wire. Thanks for the new viewers, Dad!” He waved happily.

“Before we get down to it, tonight, I wanted to take a minute to say thank you to all of you, especially my regulars who keep coming back, and _especially_ especially those of you who’ve been with me for the last six months while I’ve been resettling. And I’d like to introduce you all to someone very important...” He looked at Bucky and held out his hand, beckoning.

Bucky took another swig of his vodka before putting it aside. They’d discussed this, and… Jesus, Bucky was practically shaking as he walked over, his bones turning into silly putty or something. He’d never been on camera before, not like this, and Tony had hundreds, sometimes even over a thousand viewers per show, these days. (Howard Stark’s rants had gotten people curious, and then Tony’s charm and appeal had kept them around. So, you know, Howard wasn’t as bright as he seemed to think he was.) He took his place, sliding in to put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, standing a little behind his fiancé. “Hi, everyone. If you’ll look close, regulars, you might see that someone’s not with you in the chatroom. StrangeAttractions, Xbones, a few of you guys have been around since the beginning…”

A sudden flurry of chatter scrolled down the monitor -- Jesus, how did Tony even keep up? -- until Tony finally said, “I want you all to meet WinterSoldier... my fiancé.” He looked straight up at Bucky for that, adoration in his shining eyes.

“Hi-- it’s… uh, it’s nice to meet you, from you know, a different perspective. Answering a -- wow, you guys type fast! -- question. No, Tony and I weren’t together when he started this project; we met because of _Stark, Naked_ and I’m not embarrassed, or jealous, about that. But we’ve been together for a while now, and two weeks from Saturday, we’re getting married, at last.” Bucky almost rolled his eyes at some of Xbones’ ridiculous, sour-grape commentary. “No, no, we’re not going to film the wedding night for your amusement, either.”

“We might film it for ours, though,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. He pulled Bucky’s hand around and kissed it. “So, what do you guys think? Should Soldier help me out with tonight’s show?”

The _yeses_ , and _right ons_ , and _get to its_ were a lot higher than the _noes_. Bucky swallowed. They’d talked about it, and they’d even practiced, but Bucky had never actually gotten naked in front of anyone that he wasn’t actively sexing up (who, you know, wasn’t part of his unit in the military, and those guys hadn’t been checking the goods. When you had three minutes to shower, you did not bother to look at anything besides where the water was).

“I told you,” Bucky said, fetching his bottle of vodka, “that if we were going to do _that_ , I’d need a lot more booze.” He took another swig, directly from the bottle. Looked into the camera and winked for the audience.

And upturned the bottle over Tony’s head, soaking him rather thoroughly, and making his white shirt stick to him. “Mmmm,” Bucky said, then licked some of the vodka off Tony’s neck.

Tony yelped in surprise, and it turned into a pleased purr as Bucky licked him, and he tipped his head to the side to give Bucky more access. “Alcohol abuse,” he accused Bucky archly.

“I dunno, I rather think of it as seasonin’ for what I’m about to eat,” Bucky replied. He spared a glance for Tony’s chat window, and the tip jar that was filling up merrily. He took a deep breath as the counter racked up. Well, they were going to use the money from this last show to pay for their honeymoon. “You know, assuming you’re gonna offer--” That was said with a suggestive wink for the audience.

Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you _do_ need to clean up this mess,” he said. He tugged up the wet shirt, showing off his abs for the camera. “I suggest you get to work.”

He knew he was supposed to be playing it up for the camera, but as he sank to his knees to grip Tony’s waist and pull him in to lick his stomach, Bucky wasn’t acting. He wasn’t pretending, he was… he was living his fantasy. The first person who’d made him feel alive, the last man he ever wanted to make love with. Right there… a celebration of everything Tony was, and everything he meant.

“Clean up on aisle T.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on this story!
> 
> For the first time in _two years_ , we're going to take a break next week (only on Tuesday/Thursday; the Sunday post of Forever Home will continue on schedule). We'll be back on New Year's Day with the first chapter of our IronStrange pirate/adventurer AU -- if that's something that might interest you, make sure you're subscribed!


End file.
